


red eye

by positivelystisaac



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Barista Stiles, Erica and Boyd are together, Isaac is a marine, M/M, Scott and Stiles are Roommates, Writer Stiles, im so bad at tags im so sorry, stiles and isaac are huge nerds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:59:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1936638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/positivelystisaac/pseuds/positivelystisaac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, just a hypothetical question: if a good looking marine were to ask you to get a drink tomorrow night, how would you react?”<br/>"Just how good looking is this marine?" Stiles asks, a grin creeping onto his face.<br/>"Well, hypothetically, he has irresistible blonde curls and abs tighter than those jeans you're wearing, so I’d say pretty good looking."<br/>“Hmmmm. Okay, well, just being hypothetical: I would have to say yes. So you can tell your friend I’m free,” Stiles replies with a wink. The grin drops from Isaac’s face. “Kidding! I’d love to get a drink with you, Isaac,” Stiles says, rocking back on his heels, drumming his fingers on the counter.</p><p> </p><p>Or, the one where Isaac is a marine and Stiles makes coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. hypothetically speaking

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr!: hello-lahey.tumblr.com
> 
> also, special thanks to my awesome beta reader natalie! you can find her on tumblr at sourwolf-and-studmuffin.tumblr.com

"Next, please?" Stiles says as the previous customer takes her drink and leaves. "What can I get for you?" he asks, looking up at his next customer.  
  
"Medium coffee, black, with two shots of espresso please," the guy says. Stiles is too busy staring at him to actually ring him up though. He has perfect blond curls and the bluest eyes Stiles has ever seen, not to mention he just ordered Stiles’ exact order.  
  
Stiles scrambles to make his mind work and pick his jaw up off the floor. ”Uh, can I get a name for the cup?” Stiles stammers. He curses himself for being so frantic as he pats all of his different pockets before remembering that he stuck his sharpie behind his ear.  
  
"Isaac."  
  
"Well, Isaac, nice choice," Stiles says, uncapping the marker with his teeth and scribbling on the cup. "I, myself, am a fan of the red-eye," Stiles says, voice muffled as a result of the marker cap between his lips. He looks over his shoulder for his boss, Nick, but he luckily sees no sign of the grumpy thirty year-old man who would chew him out for holding up a customer with small talk.  
  
  
"The what?" Isaac asks.  
  
"Red eye?" Stiles repeats. "It’s what we call black coffee and espresso together. You’re gonna be wired, dude."  
  
"Good, that’s what I’m looking for," Isaac says with a grin, placing his keys and wallet down on the counter. "I need it."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Stiles says, noting the casual stance Isaac has taken on. He must not be in a hurry, Stiles thinks, all thoughts of his boss dissipating. He puts the cap back on the marker and places the empty cup on the counter next to him and tapping the screen of his register, ringing up the order. "Why’s that?"  
  
"You should try to make it through a day at the Naval Academy, and ask me that again," Isaac says as Stiles slides the Sharpie back behind his ear. Stiles can’t help but return the smile he’s flashing, made up of a jawline seemingly sculpted by the gods and insanely white teeth.

  
  
"Are you a student?" Stiles asks, noting the crisp, white, short sleeve button down adorned in pins and patches that Isaac is sporting for the first time.  
  
"Uh, sorta. Technically, I graduated last year, but after graduation you’re required to serve for a few years wherever they place you. They placed me at the academy. Some people go into combat, others work Intel, some do technology, and some, like me, get to work with the midshipmen."  
  
"There are students there now? In July?" Stiles asks.  
  
"The navy doesn’t take a break," Isaac says with a small smile.  
  
"And you’re in the navy now that you graduated?"  
  
"Actually, I’m a marine," Isaac says. "It’s confusing. People always wonder why marines train at the Naval Academy. But some people graduate as naval officers, while I graduated as a second lieutenant."  
  
"That’s cool, I can totally see it," Stiles says, omitting the part about how he has no trouble seeing those toned arms doing pull ups and bench pressing and army crawling through mud.

  
  
"So what do you do, teach?" Stiles asks. He still can’t help but glance around for his boss, Nick every so often. He’s lucky it’s a slow day, or else he would be in here for sure, busting his ass for taking his time with a customer. Stiles decides talking to Isaac is worth the risk.  
  
"Right now, I work with the new recruits. I lead them around and yell at them. It’s called Plebe Summer, and it’s the summer before their first year at the academy. We break them physically and mentally to make sure they’re cut out to handle four more years of it," Isaac says.  
  
"Ooh, very cool,” Stiles says, genuinely interested. “For you, not them, I mean.”  
Isaac laughs. “True, very true.”

"I don’t want to make you late, though, so if you would like to trade me $3.78 for this piping hot cup of liquid energy, I can send you on your merry way," Stiles says, placing the lid on the cup and sliding it across the counter. Isaac nods, passing Stiles his credit card. Stiles runs it through the machine, handing it back as the register slowly produces the receipt.  
  
Isaac tries to put the card back into his wallet, but fingers slip, sending his card clattering onto the counter. “Whoops, you dropped your card,” Stiles says, picking it up off the counter. “Maybe next time you’ll drop me your number,” he adds with a grin, handing it to Isaac along with the receipt and a pen.  
  
  
  
Isaac laughs, taking everything from Stiles. He manages to get everything sorted out and he hands back the receipt. “So, just a hypothetical question: if a good looking marine were to ask you to get a drink how would you react?”  
  
"Just how good looking is this marine?" Stiles asks, grin creeping onto his face.  
  
"Well, hypothetically, he has irresistible blonde curls and abs tighter than those jeans you’re wearing, so I’d say pretty good looking."  
  
“Hmmmm. Okay, well, just being hypothetical: I would have to say yes. So you can tell your friend I’m free,” Stiles replies with a wink. The grin drops from Isaac’s face. “Kidding! I’d love to get a drink with you, Isaac,” Stiles says, rocking back on his heels, drumming his fingers on the counter.  
  
"Great. Well you have my number, so give me a call anytime you feel like taking me up on it," Isaac says, taking his coffee and bidding Stiles goodbye by way of one last million-watt smile.  
  
"Wait… I don’t have your-" Stiles begins, but stops short when he sees the digits right below Isaac’s signature on the receipt. He smiles, looking back up at Isaac, but he only catches his back and the tinkling of the bells on the door as he walks out.  
  
Clucking his tongue in his mouth absentmindedly, Stiles looks down at the receipt in his hand and wonders if right now is too soon to call.


	2. really, really

By the time Isaac leaves the academy at five, there are two missed calls, a voicemail and seven text messages waiting for him. All from Stiles. While he desperately wants to check them right then and there, he wants to have the time to properly reply. He practically runs the three blocks to his apartment, jogging up the stairs to the third floor instead of waiting for the elevator. As the door clicks behind him, Isaac drops onto the couch and unlocks his phone. He isn’t sure what to check first- the texts or the voicemail. He opts for the voicemail.

 “Uh, hey! It’s Stiles! Uh, Stilinski. From the coffee shop. Sorry, I don’t know why I felt the need to clarify. You probably only know one Stiles. But yeah. Sorry, I know you’re at work and stuff but uh, my roommate Scott is in this band. They’re actually pretty good and they’re playing a gig downtown tonight and I know it’s like, really not a lot of notice and all but if you were looking for something to do tonight it’s at like nine thirty or ten and I was gonna see if you wanted to come with me and that was just the run-on sentence to end all run-on sentences.  But anyway, if you don’t have plans- not that I don’t think you’re cool enough to have plans tonight or anything I was just…”

The message cuts off, the automated voice prompting Isaac to either save it, delete it or play it again. With a grin on his face, Isaac saves the message without hesitation, pulling up the texts.

**Stiles:  yooooo this is stiles! so i just left you a message and it got cut off and i just wanted to finish my thought and say if you dont have plans it would be fun to maybe go together? but if not thats cool too!! just let me know**

**Stiles: (this is assuming you listened to the message i dont know if youre one of those people who even check their voicemail? but based purely on your physical appearance you seem to be the type of person who has their life together)**

**Stiles: not that you cant be good looking and be crap at communicating because you totally can!! my aforementioned friend scott is a prime example of that. im just saying you dont strike me as the type of person who would just ignore a voicemail, ya know?**

**Stiles: but then again what do i know about you? not as much as i would if you came with me tonight ;)**

**Stiles: but if you dont want to it’s cool. no worries!**

**Stiles: sorry im really bad at this and im definitely scaring you away just ignore me**

**Stiles: but yeah let me know**

Grinning even wider than before, Isaac replies.

**Isaac: hey! sorry for the late reply, i just got off work**

**Isaac: have no fear: i’m lame and have no plans, so i would love to go with you tonight**

**Isaac: not to say that i only want to go because i have no plans**

**Isaac: because i would totally cancel my plans if i did have plans**

**Isaac: unless they were really, really cool like meeting the president or tickets to comic con or something**

Within a minute, Isaac’s phone starts ringing. “Hello?”

“The president is way cool and comic con is exponentially more awesome than Scott’s band.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Isaac says, smiling to himself.

“Oh, trust me, we are. I mean I think the coolest thing would be running into the president at comic con. _Ohhhhhhmygod_ what if he cosplayed as Captain America?! I would lose my shit,” Stiles says excitedly.

Isaac laughs. “Well I mean he would be the second best Cap, as I would be the first, but I guess it would be pretty cool.”

“Ooh, shots fired!” Stiles replies playfully. “Are you kidding me?!” he screams angrily. “Sorry, not you. I’m driving, some asshole just cut me off.”

“Don’t get yourself killed because you’re so desperate to hear my voice,” Isaac teases.

“Oh, so you do know how great you are?” Stiles laughs

“What can I say? I tell it like it is.”

“Well I would hope so,” Stiles says matter-of-fact.

“Speaking of telling things as they are, just to clarify, this, uh, this thing tonight- this is a date right?” Isaac asks, standing up off the couch and beginning to pace around his apartment.

Stiles nods quickly, but realizes Isaac can’t see that. “Y-yes, this is a date! I mean, if that’s cool with you obviously.”

Isaac lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. “Sweet!” he says excitedly. “I mean, uh, yeah, that’s definitely cool with me,” he tries to backtrack and cover his overexcitement. Be cool, Isaac, be cool.

Stiles grins. “Perfect! Do you want to meet at the show or somewhere before hand? We can head over together if it, like, logistically makes sense.  You know what I’m saying?”

Isaac realizes at this point that he’s been walking circles around his apartment.

“Well assuming you live by the coffee shop, we can go over together. I live in the Brownstone apartment building two blocks down from the coffee shop across from the park so I can just walk to the coffee shop and meet you there if that makes sense.”

Stiles all but swerves into the lane of oncoming traffic. “Shut the fuck up!”

“Excuse you,” Isaac snarks, pausing in his tracks and raising an eyebrow, even though Stiles can’t see him do so. He walks into his kitchen to find something to drink as he waits for Stiles to explain himself.

Stiles shakes his head furiously, “Sorry, sorry! I got excited. Don’t shut up, I didn’t mean it literally! I live in the Brownstone building too.”

Isaac freezes with his hand on the refrigerator door. “Good one,” he says after a second of thought. “You’re definitely joking, though.”

“I’m not!” Stiles says, insistent. “What unit are you? I’m 2C.” Isaac grabs a bottle of water and closes the fridge behind him.

“3G. You swear you’re telling the truth?”

“Yes! Rick the doorman and I are tight if that tells you anything,” Stiles says.

Isaac shakes his head in disbelief. “This is too crazy.”

“You’re telling me,” Stiles agrees. “This is so cool though.”

“I know! And, hey, at least it makes tonight a little easier,” Isaac says.

“Exactly! I’m on my way to my dad’s for dinner now, but I have to run back to my place and get ready after. I can meet you at your door at like 9? They go on around 9:30 or 10.”

“That’s perfect,” Isaac says.

“Okay, great. I’m driving and it’s only a matter of time before I get too distracted by all of this banter- not to mention my desperation to hear your voice- and total my car, so I’d better go.”

“Banter? Really?” Isaac asks, laughing.

“Yes, banter!” Stiles says, a little defensively.

"This is hardly banter. If you want to see banter, I can show you banter! This is barely it."

“Oh, really?" Stiles asks.

"Really, really."

"I look forward to it."

"See, this is more like banter," Isaac points out.

"Oh?" Stiles challenges. Before Isaac has a chance to respond, Stiles is letting out a string of muffled curses. "Sorry, I gotta go, that cop definitely just saw me speed past him on my phone. But I’ll see you tonight! I’m excited," Stiles says honestly. 

“Me, too. See you later, Stiles.”   

When Stiles knocks on Isaac’s door later that night, he’s wringing his hands and trying to breathe through the nervous energy bubbling up inside of him. He looks down at his outfit for the unpteenth time in the last twenty minutes. _What if he doesn’t notice my shirt?_ Stiles’ mind races as he waits for Isaac to come to the door. _Or what if he does and he doesn’t remember what we were talking about earlier, and he thinks I’m weird? Shit, I should have stuck with the plain black. God dammit Stiles, you alw-_

Isaac opens the door with a smile, looking just as amazing in normal clothes as he does in uniform. “You look great,” Stiles tells him, kicking the toe of his converse against the ground nervously.

“You, too,” Isaac says honestly. Then, he notices Stiles’ shirt beneath his unbuttoned flannel. “Captain America? Really?!”

Thrilled that Isaac noticed the shirt, Stiles is worried for a second that his sigh of relief is audible. “Really, really,” he says, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge Isaac. Isaac takes the bait, raising an eyebrow as well, staring at Stiles as he crosses his arms in thought.

“Hmm,” Isaac says thoughtfully. “Well, I guess this means I have to rescind my previous statement about myself and the president at comic con. It turns out I would not, in fact, be the best looking Captain America fan.”

“Is that so?” Stiles asks, crossing his arms as well.

“I do believe that title would have to go to you. Assuming you were in attendance, of course.”

Caught off guard a little bit by Isaac’s compliment, Stiles blushes and grins. “You’re too good. You ready to go?”

Isaac nods, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind him. Jiggling the doorknob to be sure the door locked behind him, he pockets his keys and looks up at Stiles. “Lead the way.”

Isaac actually genuinely enjoys Scott’s band, and the beer and Stiles just make it that much better. He doesn’t even let the thought of his 4:30 AM alarm cross his mind the whole time, even when his watch reads 1:26 AM. By the time Stiles and Isaac reach their building on the way home, Isaac is sure about two things: one, he needs to work on staying up past his usual eleven o’clock bedtime. And two: he definitely wants to see Stiles again.

“This is me, 2C,” Stiles says as they approach his door, bringing his hands together and rubbing his palms together nervously. Isaac wracks his brain for what to say, trying to articulate that he’s not the type of person to jump in bed on the first date, but also that he wants there to be a second date.

“I had a really good time with you tonight,” Isaac settles on.

“I did, too,” Stiles says with a smile. He looks unsure about something, however. Isaac wonders what it could be, but gets his answer when Stiles leans in and presses his lips to Isaac’s. Isaac freezes for a second before returning Stiles’ kiss. “Sorry,” Stiles says, pulling away after a minute.

“For what?” Isaac asks.

“Well I mean technically, you were the one to walk me home and so technically the kiss should have been at your discretion.” Stiles explains.

Isaac laughs audibly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Like you walked me home, technically, seeing as you have to walk the rest of the way to your place alone after you saw me to my door. So technically, you should have been the one to kiss me or not kiss me. But I just kind of stole it from you and I sort of just went for it.”

“And that’s a problem because?” Isaac asks with a small smile, trying to let Stiles know he didn’t have a problem with the kiss. In fact, he wouldn’t mind doing it again.

“Oh. Okay, then good.”

“When can I see you again?” Isaac asks. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he’s shocked at himself for being so forward. Usually, he just passive-aggressively waits for any guy he sees to call him and gets upset when they don’t. But something about Stiles has Isaac feeling like he wouldn’t be okay with not getting a call soon.

“Soon, I hope! I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure something out.” Stiles says. “Unless you employ that whole three days until you call rule? Personally, I think it’s just a b.s. stigma made up by bitches who are so insecure that their blind date won’t call them the second he wakes up in the morning, they allow themselves three days to delay the rejection they will, in fact, soon feel when day number four comes and goes with no call. Like I said, bullshit. So I’ll probably just call you tomorrow anyway but if you don’t want to pick up until the third day that’s cool I guess. I mean-”

“Stiles,” Isaac interrupts his rambling with a laugh. “Call me tomorrow. Please,”

“Yes. Okay. You got it. I’ll call you, we’ll figure something out,” Stiles says, flailing hands settling at his sides.

“Sounds like a plan,” Isaac says.

“Good!” Stiles says, pulling out his keys from his pocket and turning to face the door. Upon second thought, he turns back around to face Isaac. “Uh, I’m at the coffee shop every day from 6:30 until 3. If you ever need good coffee, you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I do. Don’t worry. Good night, Stiles.” Isaac places his hands in his pockets, rocking back on the balls of his feet a little.

“Good night, Isaac.”

 

 


	3. this is not the titanic

“So did you call him yet?” Erica asks the following morning, tucking her hair into her cap.

“No,” Isaac says, readjusting one of the pins on his shirt. “It’s not even 0530 hours. We said good night like four hours ago, not even.”

“Well, first of all, that’s why you look like you rose from the dead. Don’t you know better than to go out late before your early shifts?”

“Apparently not,” Isaac says, stifling a yawn.

“Well, second, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’re crazy about him,” Erica points out, giving herself a once-over in the mirror.

“We only met yesterday!” Isaac protests, still fidgeting with the same pin.

“Romeo and Juliet only knew each other for like, four days! Jack and Rose knew each other less than that-”

“Erica,” Isaac cuts in. “This isn’t Romeo and Juliet, or Titanic, or any other weird pop culture reference you can relate to. He said he would call me so I’m pretty sure he will.”

“I’m just saying!” Erica says defensively.

“And I’m just saying I’m not going to fuck him in an antique car and kill myself,” Isaac replies.

“Fair enough,” Erica shrugs, walking towards the dormitories. “You could pull the stick out of your ass though.”

“I don’t have a stick up my ass, I have three hours of sleep and a nagging best friend,” Isaac snaps.

“Oh, fuck you!” Erica laughs. “You’re ridiculous. Don’t be so grumpy, it’s like you took a page out of Derek’s book.”

Isaac opens his mouth to protest, but Erica cuts him off. “Second Lieutenant Lahey, will you be joining me to wake up the plebes?” Isaac shoots her a questioning look at the change in her tone of voice, but soon notices the superior officer nearby.

“Yes, Second Lieutenant Reyes, I will.”

 

As they lead two perfectly organized lines of plebes on their daily morning run, Erica turns to face Isaac. “You don’t have to rush things,” she says between breaths. “I mean, God knows it took forever for me and Boyd to get together.”

“Pick it up, midshipmen!” Isaac shouts over his shoulder. “Two more miles!”

By the time they finish and send the plebes off to shower, Isaac is dying to sneak away to the locker room and check his phone. It’s a few minutes after seven, which means Stiles has to be awake by now, seeing as his shift started at six thirty. He toys with the idea for a few minutes as he stands in the line for breakfast. “Did you hear me earlier?” Erica asks, coming up behind him and poking his shoulder.

“I heard you,” Isaac replies. “I mean, I don’t want to go get married tonight, but I don’t really want it to be two and a half years before we realize we’re good for each other. At the rate at which you and Boyd took things, I’ll be well into my third or fourth tour before I even get to meet his friends.”

Erica shoots him a look as she fills her tray. “Yeah, it took us a while but at least we’re together. Which is more than I can say about you and…. wait… what’s his name? You never told me his name, you little-”

“Why would I tell you his name?!” Isaac asks incredulously. “So you can call your boyfriend up in Intel and have him find out everything there is to know about him? No thanks.”

Erica’s mouth is agape in faux surprise. “The fact that you would even think that is just-”

“Completely accurate?” Isaac suggests, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, yeah, probably,” Erica admits as they sit down. “If I swear not to tell Boyd will you tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Isaac, come on. I’m not going to beg, but I will make your life hell until you tell me,” Erica says, crossing her arms.

“We both know you wouldn’t do that, so don’t waste your breath pretending that you would,” Isaac says through a mouthful of eggs.

“Okay, ouch. Just because I love your little snarky ass too much to ruin you doesn’t mean you can...”

“Can what?” Isaac exhales.

“I don’t know! Call me out on it, I guess. I was hoping I would be able to articulate a little better,” she shrugs.

“Don’t be so butthurt,” Isaac grins.

“Oh, shut up.” Erica kicks him under the table. “But back to what you said about me and Boyd…. how many times do I have to tell you that you’re not going to be deployed?! You’re way too valuable here.”

“I dunno. I requested short-term deployment,” Isaac admits.

“What?” Erica asks, dropping her fork. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was just an idea! I’ll probably be denied any way.”

“Well you should hope it gets denied, because you may very well have something- or should I say, someone - worth sticking around here for.”

“Erica!” Isaac protests. “You’re blowing this out of proportion!”

“I’m just saying! You never know!” Isaac doesn’t mention how his heart beats just a little faster at the thought of coming home to Stiles at some point, or how he can barely wait for the day to be over so he can get to his phone. Instead, he just says “I guess we’ll see,” effectively ending the conversation. And sure enough, when 1700 hours rolls around and Isaac pulls his phone from his locker, he has a missed call from Stiles. And, of course, four texts.

 

**Stiles: as promised, i have given you a call!**

**Stiles: i know we established that waiting three days to call is total bull, but we never discussed the topic of the recipient of the call actually calling back the original caller.**

**Stiles: so to err on the side of caution, i guess i shouldn’t expect a call back for three more days.**

**Stiles: although i wouldn’t mind one sooner. just sayin**

 

Isaac texts back as he walks home, trying to juggle typing and walking at the same time.

 

**Isaac: well hello there**

**Isaac: i believe that waiting to return a call is not only rude but also super lame.**

 

**Stiles: so what are you waiting for??**

 

Isaac shakes his head, grinning to himself as he dials. Stiles picks up on the second ring. “Oh, thank god. I was worried for a second you were not only rude, but also super lame.”

“Nah,” Isaac replies, waving at Rick the doorman as he walks into the apartment building. “I’m amazing. We established this already, I thought.”

“Amazing? I dunno about that.”

“What’s wrong?” Isaac asks as he climbs the stairs. “Need some more convincing?”

“I think I might,” Stiles says thoughtfully.

“Maybe dinner on Saturday would help?” Isaac asks. His voice is confident and playful, but he’s freaking out inside.

“I think I could be persuaded.” Stiles replies.

“Oh, you need persuading?” Isaac asks, digging in his bag for his keys.

“It would appear so, yes.”

“Ouch. I thought the promise of seeing my face would be enough. But maybe the half price beer and killer burgers at the dive bar on Walnut will sweeten the deal?” Isaac suggests.

“Ooh. It seems you’ve made me an offer I cannot refuse,” Stiles says, smiling to himself.

“Phew!” Isaac jokes. “For a minute there, you had me scared that I wouldn’t be graced with your presence.”

“Have no fear,” Stiles replies. “I will be in attendance for sure. On one condition.”

“What might that be?” Isaac asks, letting himself into his place.

“Come visit me at the coffee shop sometime before then. Saturday is four long days away.”

“I get good coffee and I get to flirt with their cute barista? Consider it done.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon, I trust,” Stiles says.

“You will,” Isaac confirms.

“Not to cut this short, but The Amazing Spider-man is on channel fifty two. They’re almost at the bridge scene”

“Go, go!” Isaac orders him, reaching for the remote and tuning his own TV to the right channel. “That’s like, the second best part.”

“You just turned it on, I can hear it,” Stiles declares.

“Yep,” Isaac nods. Stiles breaks the silence after the scene is over.

“What’s the first best part? If you're still there and I haven't been holding my phone to my ear for the last ten minutes for no reason,” he asks, realizing that he's pretty sure that he and Isaac stayed on the phone through the scene with each other.

“When Captain Stacy finds out who Spider-man really is!” Isaac says, matter-of-fact.

“Hmm. I’m not sure if I agree with you on that. I will have to get back to you on that one.”

“I look forward to it,” Isaac replies. “Okay… who’s the better Spider-man: Tobey or Andrew?” he asks after a minute of silence, silently hoping Stiles is still there.

“Andrew, for sure,” Stiles says without hesitation. “To be fair, Andrew had a way better movie all around. Better script, better graphics, better effects. Y’know, the whole shebang. Totally blew Tobey out of the water when you look back on it now. But don’t get me wrong, back in 2002, Tobey was everything.”

“I agree,” Isaac says. “Andrew totally had those advantages plus he has such good chemistry with Emma Stone, Tobey Maguire and Kirsten Dunst didn’t stand a chance.”

“You can’t hear me nodding enthusiastically in agreement, but I am nodding enthusiastically in agreement,” Stiles says before they slip into silence again. “You still there?” Isaac asks as the credits begin to roll.

“Still here,” Stiles says.

“Did you hear The Amazing Spider-Man 3 got pushed back to 2018?” Isaac asks, using his shoulder to press his phone to his ear as he stretches his arms above his head.

“What?!” Stiles shouts, sitting up. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wish,” Isaac says.

“This is terrible news. I am positively devastated,” Stiles replies. “The only thing that can ease my heartbreak is half price beer and killer burgers. Saturday night cannot come sooner.”

Isaac smiles. “I agree.”

They’ve gone back and forth about all of the Spider-Man movies, Marvel vs. DC, and the fate of a good deal of Hollywood’s power couples by the time they hang up a little after midnight. Isaac doesn’t even mind that he has to be up by five the next morning to work an eleven-hour day. He’s talking to, like, the geekiest, coolest, all around most entertaining guy he ever has, and if that means he needs two or three red eyes to make it through the day tomorrow, so be it. Besides, there’s a coffee shop not too far away that he’s been meaning to try again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks to natalie for her beta-reading skills!


	4. factors

“I want to know about you,” Stiles says to Isaac sometime in January. They’re sitting on Isaac’s couch watching The Avengers for the umpteenth time. Well, Isaac is sitting. Stiles is laying on his side across the length of the couch, his bare feet in Isaac’s lap as he cradles a pillow to his chest.

“What are you talking about?” Isaac asks, pausing the movie. “You do know about me. It’s been like, seven months.”

Stiles takes a deep breath. “Well you’ve told me about your job and I met your friends and I know that you have weird dreams when you sleep with socks on and I know that your birthday is on October 24th because we had really good birthday sex-”

“Oh my god, Stiles,” Isaac interrupts, shaking his head. “That’s your takeaway?” 

“It was good, you have to admit it,” Stiles grins, kicking his feet in Isaac’s lap. “But I don’t know enough about little Isaac. Not that little Isaac, I know a lot about him,” Stiles says, nudging Isaac’s crotch with his toe. 

“Oh my god, Stiles,” Isaac repeats. “How much sugar did you have today?”

“Not enough,” Stiles says without missing a beat. “I’m bored. Tell me about your childhood. We never really talked about it and I’m curious.”

“Not now,” Isaac says, shaking his head. “Let’s just make it through an entire movie for once.”

“Why not now?!” Stiles whines. “Are you embarrassed? Did you hit puberty late? Or did you- ohmygod were you a child actor or something?! Now that I think about it, you do kind of look like Mikey from The Goonies.”

“You realize that movie was, like, five or six years old by the time I was even born, right?” Isaac replies. 

“Okay, so maybe not Mikey from The Goonies. But-”

“I promise you, I was not a child actor,” Isaac cuts in. 

“Okay, then what?” Stiles presses. 

“Nothing! We’ll talk later, I just want to watch the movie,” Isaac lies. He knows the movie like the back of his hand- he could quote all 143 minutes of it, verbatim.

“We’ve seen this movie so many times,” Stiles complains. “Talk to meeeeeeeee,” he whines. 

“Stiiiiiiles,” Isaac groans.

“Okay, okay. Not your childhood then. What if you tell me why you decided to go to the Naval Academy,” Stiles says.

“Okay,” Isaac agrees, taking a deep breath. Stiles knows that Isaac lived with his Aunt and Uncle, that Isaac’s parents had died years ago. It was only mentioned in conversation once, the topic changed before either of them could dwell on it. So it’s not like this is a surprise to him, that Stiles wants to know about his past. But Isaac has never let himself connect to someone so strongly before that their relationship had gotten to this point, and he’s nervous. 

Before he even starts speaking, Stiles can tell Isaac is apprehensive. “What’s wrong?” he asks gently, his demeanor changing.

“Honestly?” Isaac asks, voice a little smaller than usual. 

Stiles nods. “Of course. You can tell me anything.”

“I never really talk about my childhood. I’m kind of nervous, I dunno. It’s not that I don’t want you to know-” Isaac says. It’s that I don’t want you to leave because of it, some part of his conscience thinks. “It’s just kind of weird for me to talk about. My, uh, my older brother enlisted in the army when he turned eighteen. I had just turned thirteen then. He left for his first tour a few months later, and his unit was attacked and he was killed. The, uh, the death notification officers were on our doorstep the day he would have been nineteen.”

“Shit, Isaac. I’m sorry,” Stiles says, voice much quieter now. He pulls his legs off of Isaac’s lap and sits up, hugging his knees to his face and turning to face Isaac. “I can’t even imagine.”

Although it isn’t for the first time, in this moment, Isaac realizes how much he trusts Stiles, and how he feels safe- really, really safe- and maybe that’s why he lets the words continue to tumble out. “Once my brother was gone, it was just me and my dad. He had always been a prick, but once Camden- that was my brother’s name- uh, once Camden died, it was like he stopped caring. He, uh…” Isaac’s voice trails off and he squeezes his eyes shut for a second. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to-” Stiles begins. 

Isaac shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I trust you, I want you to know. This is part of who I am.”

“Okay,” is all Stiles can think to say. 

“Once Camden died, he started lashing out more than usual. He hit me a lot, yelled even more than he used to, and then one time I wound up at the same hospital too many times, and I had run out of excuses. The nurses started asking questions, they brought in family services, and that was the last time I saw him. He got three years in prison for domestic violence with just my hospital records- I didn’t even have to testify.”

“Isaac,” Stiles begins, shaking his head. “I had no idea. Shit, I…”

Isaac pulls his knees to his chest to mirror Stiles. “I was fourteen when I started living with my Aunt Lisa and Uncle Ben, and I was fifteen when I found out my dad got sick and died in prison. I always knew I wanted to serve like Camden did, but I wanted to be able to prepare myself for a life outside my service, too. So I applied to Navy, got in, and five years later, here I am.”

“And you know we’re in the dead mom club together,” Isaac confirms, gesturing between himself and Stiles. “Sorry, that was tasteless,” he corrects himself, even though a small grin appears on Stiles’ face. 

Stiles shakes his head. “That’s okay.”

“Uh, she died before all of this, when I was still pretty young. Car accident,” Isaac says, nodding as he speaks. He could leave it at that, but something about the feeling he gets from the look in Stiles’ eyes and the way their hands have somehow found each other keeps him from stopping. “I was seven, Camden was almost thirteen, it was the middle of summer, and we wanted to make s’mores. She said no and Camden lost interest, but I just kept pushing and pushing and pushing. Finally, she caved and left the two of us home with my dad so she could go to the store and get what we needed. She was on the way back when someone ran a stop sign and their cars collided. Her airbag malfunctioned and never went off, and she hit her head on the steering wheel hard enough that she died on impact. Sort of a freak accident type thing.” 

Stiles doesn’t know what to say. He can feel the tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks and the burning behind his eyes, but all he’s focused on is the blank look in Isaac’s eyes. Blue eyes meet brown, and Stiles struggles to find his words. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “I… I shouldn’t have asked you to you tell me. I-”

“It’s okay. Don’t be upset. It’s part of my life, and you’re part of my life. If anything, I should have told you sooner,” Isaac replies. “I’m good now, though. I learned how to be happy; I’m in a good spot now.” 

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks. 

“Just that I was in a bad place before I found the Naval Academy. I was harboring a lot of guilt- for my mother’s death, for my father’s death, for a lot of things. But the Navy and the Marines taught me a lot. My Aunt and Uncle taught me a lot. My friends taught me a lot. You taught me a lot. I’m happy. Happier than I’ve been in a really, really long time. So don’t be sad, okay?”

“I love you,” Stiles says for the first time. “You know that, right?” his voice takes on a higher pitch as his words come faster, strung together as he begins to ramble. “I mean, I know it’s the first time I’ve said it, but I’ve known it and maybe you’ve known it, too. Maybe you haven’t. I don’t know. Maybe you feel it too. maybe you don’t. I don’t know about that either. And it’s okay if you don’t. But I love you and I just need you to know that. And now you know, and I know, and I love you.”

Isaac smiles. “I know. I have known.”

“Since when?” Stiles asks. 

“Since the day you let me drive your jeep,” Isaac laughs. Stiles laughs too, and it feels good- better than the tears felt. 

“Am I really that transparent?!” Stiles asks. Isaac nods. 

“You are. But now you know that I know, and I have known, and I love you, too.” 

“Since when?” Stiles asks again. 

“Since the day you let me drive your jeep,” Isaac jokes. Stiles smacks him on the knee. “Kidding! You know how you were waiting for me after work last week? And you had burned me an exact copy of the mix CD I told you I listened to every day when I was in high school? When I got home and listened to it, you had all of the songs in the right order, even though I know I only mentioned it to you once casually in conversation.” 

“Really? So it wasn’t when I made you dinner and burned everything?” 

“Everything except the chicken,” Isaac laughs. “Which was so underdone we both got food poisoning? Maybe that was it. Definitely a factor.”

“And what were the other factors?” Stiles asks excitedly. 

“Hmmm,” Isaac says, thinking. “Well, there was the day I came in to get coffee and you were speaking in a really bad British accent. And then you refused to serve me unless I spoke back in an accent too. And lest we forget the time you changed your name in my phone to your dad’s and texted me.”

“Isaac, why don’t you stop by tonight after work so we can chat? Not crazy about the messages I found on Stiles’ phone,” Stiles says in a deep voice. “Oh god, I thought you were going to have an aneurysm,” he cackles. 

“I thought I was, too,” Isaac laughs. 

“Ooh, ooh! I have one of my factors,” Stiles says excitedly. “When we got really tiny bluetooths and stayed on the phone with each other all day. And all those times we air-fived. Also when we met at that gas station in the rain-”

“Stiles,” Isaac cuts in. “We never did any of that stuff. I told you, stop pretending we’re Jim and Pam. For the last time, we-”

“Shut it, Beesley,” Stiles interrupts. 

“Beesley? Are you kidding me?!” Isaac protests. “What makes you think you get to be Jim? I’m clearly Jim. You’re so Pam. Everything about you screams Pam. How dare you-”

“So you agree, we are Jim and Pam,” Stiles says with a grin. 

“What? No! We’re clearly Michael and Holly.”

“What? No, stop. Jim and Pam! Jim and Pam, Jim and Pam, Jim and Pam! You’re grasping at straws at this point. You can be Jim if you at least admit we’re totally the Halperts,” Stiles says, crossing his arms. 

“Fine, fine. Okay,” Isaac concedes.

“Wanna know my actual factors?” Stiles asks after a minute. Isaac nods. “When you started signing Marvel characters’ names instead of your own on your coffee receipts. Also, when you watched all nine seasons of The Office in a month because I compared us to Jim and Pam and you didn’t know who that was.”

“How about when we went ice skating the week before Christmas and I fell and ate shit in front of everyone?” Isaac with a grin. 

“Definitely a factor. No question,” Stiles returns Isaac’s smile before cutting it off with a kiss. “When you tracked down vintage editions of my favorite comics and surprised me with them for Christmas.”

“My turn,” Isaac says. “When you hid in my apartment and left clues all over to where you were hiding.” 

“How you let me be player one every time we play Xbox,” Stiles says, smiling even wider.

“God, how did it take you this long?!” Isaac jokes. “That was a dead giveaway that you’re the only one for me.”

“I love you,” Stiles says. 

“Shut it, Beesley,” Isaac replies with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!! It started out that I was away for a bit, and then while away I got really poorly and was sick for nearly two weeks with pneumonia, which was weird in itself because summers where I live are unforgivingly hot. But I'm back to 100% now, at my university and becoming more accustomed to my routine.
> 
> That being said, I've been receiving absolutely lovely comments on this story! Gahhhh I want to squish you all. Thank you so so much if you've left me feedback- I appreciate it more than you know! Please don't ever hesitate to let me know what you think, whether it be good or bad. 
> 
> As always, many thanks to Natalie for her help. I seriously heart you. 
> 
> Next chapter won't be far behind. 
> 
> Lots of loooove xxxx


	5. the holy trinity

It’s a Tuesday evening in the beginning of July when Isaac hears his doorknob rattling frantically. “Isaac!” Stiles calls out, appearing in Isaac’s apartment without warning. Isaac walks out of his bedroom just in time to see the door close behind Stiles.

 

“What’s up?” Isaac asks calmly, running a hand through his hair. He shoots Stiles a cheeky smile, all but sauntering into the kitchen.

 

“You’re an asshole,” Stiles says, trying to catch his breath as his eyes rake over Isaac’s body.

 

“It took you a year to figure that one out?” Isaac grins, drumming his fingers on the counter.

 

“Shut up,” Stiles retorts. Isaac raises an eyebrow, to which Stiles sighs exaggeratedly, holding up a finger to silence any reply Isaac may have. “Siri, read my last message from Isaac.”

 

“Sorry, Stiles. I didn’t get that,” comes the reply. Stiles doesn’t break eye contact with Isaac as he tries again.

 

“Siri, read my last message from Isaac,” Stiles says, this time through gritted teeth.  

 

“Did you say ‘read last message from Stiles?’”

 

“What? No. Why would I want you to-” Stiles says quietly. “READ MESSAGE FROM ISAAC,” he yells.

 

“Okay. Here is your last message from Isaac.”

 

“Read it to me,” Stiles tries.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t get that.”

 

“Fuck you, Siri. You’re no help.” Stiles gripes, breaking eye contact with a very smug-looking Isaac to glance down at his phone and pull up the message himself. “Home alone, nothing to do,” Stiles reads from his phone. “And can you tell me what that is?” he asks, passing Isaac the phone.

 

“That?” Isaac asks. Stiles nods. “That would be a picture of my shirtless torso.”

 

“Mmhm,” Stiles nods frantically. “And what do you think I did when I received that message?”

 

Isaac laughs. “Did you sprint upstairs and let yourself into my apartment without warning?”

 

“No, I did not,” Stiles repeats. “I sat down and thought to myself- Stiles, what can you do to help Isaac? He’s bored, he’s got nothing to do. How can you, Stiles, make Isaac less bored?”

 

“And you’re sure you didn’t drop whatever it was you were doing and run up here?” Isaac asks, a hint of a smile playing on his face as he crosses the kitchen to the fridge.

 

“No. What would give you that idea?” Stiles asks, trying to hide the fact he still hasn’t quite caught his breath.

 

“Mmhm, I see,” Isaac says, pulling two beers out of the fridge. “Oh, hey, Stiles?” Isaac asks over his shoulder as he digs around for a bottle opener.

 

“What?” Stiles snaps.

 

“What happened to your shoes?”

 

“What are you…” Stiles’ voice drops off when he looks down and notices his feet, clad only in Iron Man socks. “Fuck you,” he says.

 

“What’s even worse is that they’re Iron Man. And your boxers are Batman,” Isaac says, glancing at Stiles’ hips, a tiny sliver of his Batman boxers visible above the waistband of his jeans. “I thought we discussed this- no mixing DC and Marvel. Like, ever.”

 

“Shut up,” Stiles gripes, ripping the socks from his feet, nearly falling over as he hops around the kitchen, struggling to actually get them off. “Using my own rule against me,” he mutters, throwing the balled up socks at Isaac’s chest before reaching for one of the beers from his outstretched hand.

 

Smiling and shaking his head, Isaac lifts the drink above his head and out of Stiles’ reach. “What’s the magic word?”

 

Stiles shakes his head, crossing his arms and pouting. “Not gonna cut it,” Isaac teases.

 

“Stop teasing me,” Stiles whines, reaching again.

 

Isaac laughs, shaking his head as he lifts his arm once more. “Try again.”

 

“Isaac, I swear to god. Give me the fucking beer or I’m never touching your dick again,” Stiles says, reaching again.

 

“That’ll do,” Isaac lowers his arm, handing the drink to Stiles and following him over to the couch.

 

Stiles takes a long drink from his bottle before setting it down on the table. He grins at Isaac before laying down, pulling Isaac down on top of him in a surprisingly swift motion. He presses an eager kiss to Isaac’s lips, to which Isaac responds almost instantly, slipping his tongue into Stiles’ mouth effortlessly. Stiles slides his hands under the hem of Isaac’s shirt, fingers running over his toned back, pulling Isaac down closer.

 

Stiles pulls away from Isaac’s lips, instead trailing kisses slowly down to the hollow at the bottom of Isaac’s neck. Stiles tugs the fabric of Isaac’s tee shirt to the side and begins sucking at the skin below his collarbone, Isaac’s fingers tangling in Stiles’ hair. They’ve cut it too close too many times, but finally Stiles is able to remember where Isaac’s work shirts fall. Isaac is grateful for this- in the moment he never cared much, but begging Erica to save him from humiliation with makeup the next day got really old really fast.

 

Isaac quickly flips them over so Stiles is on top, reconnecting their lips eagerly.  “Bedroom,” he murmurs against Stiles’ lips. “Mmmm, nah. I’m good here,” Stiles says, pulling away and shaking his head. He scrunches his nose, sitting up on Isaac’s legs and making a show to glance at the clock on the cable box. “Ooh, half past seven. Shoot. We missed Jeopardy, but we can still watch Wheel of Fortune. Or we could have a long talk about our feelings instead.”

 

“Wait, what? What are you…” Isaac begins. Suddenly, it dawns on him exactly what Stiles is doing. “You’re teasing me, you little bitch.”

 

“You started it,” Stiles replies with a grin, leaning down and pressing a final kiss to Isaac’s lips before laying down on top of him and curling up.

 

“You look like a dog when you do that,” Isaac says, pouting. “You might as well circle my chest a few times before you settle in.”

 

“You look like a dog when you do that,” Stiles repeats in his best impression of Isaac’s voice. “You might as well-”

 

“Stop mocking me!” Isaac protests, pushing Stiles gently.

 

“Stop mocking me!” Stiles repeats.

 

“Stiiiiiiiiles,” Isaac groans, drawing out the word in the way he often does, full of exasperation and a hint of playful annoyance. Stiles doesn’t acknowledge Isaac, but rather makes a content noise and buries his face in Isaac’s chest. Isaac sighs, reaching for the Xbox controller. “What’s it gonna be tonight? he asks.

 

Stiles grabs at the controller, but Isaac sees it coming and lifts it from his reach. “No. No more Hell’s Kitchen. I can’t take any more Gordon Ramsay. That guy’s a dick,” Isaac says.

 

Stiles sits up abruptly. “Whoa. Come on, babe. We’ve been over this. He isn’t a dick. It’s not his fault everyone else is such a fuck-up! This is their job and they claim to be amazing at it, but they suck and it’s food we’re talking about here. Food. If it’s wrong, it could kill you. So, really, he’s like the nicest guy on the planet looking out for everyone else like that, okay? He’s my hero.”

 

“Your hero? Okay, yeah, definitely no more Hell’s Kitchen.”

 

Stiles pouts dejectedly, laying down on his side and facing away from Isaac. “Boo. You suck.”

 

“You’ll live,” Isaac says. Not that Isaac can see it, but Stiles sticks his tongue out for good measure.

 

“If we’re watching shitty TV, we’re spooning,” Stiles declares, reaching behind himself to find Isaac’s arm.

 

Isaac obliges without hesitation, draping his arm over Stiles and pulling him to his chest. Stiles wedges his bare feet between Isaac’s ankles, even though he knows Isaac hates it when he does that. “Oh my god, Stiles!” Isaac groans into Stiles’ hair. “Your feet are so fucking cold. Jesus, you have to warn me.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have made fun of my socks,” Stiles replies.

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have broken a rule from the holy trinity,” Isaac snarks.

 

Stiles sticks his tongue out again. “What are we watching?”

 

“How I Met Your Mother or Grey’s Anatomy?”

 

“What part are we at in Grey’s?” Stiles asks, voice heavy with sleep.

 

“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me,” Isaac warns.

 

“I won’t, I won’t. But for real, where are we at in Grey’s?” Stiles says.

 

“Somewhere in season five, maybe?” Isaac replies, navigating through Netflix to find it.

 

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. Alex and Izzie’s wedding,” Stiles says sleepily.

 

“Alex and Izzie… what are you talking about?” Isaac asks, thoroughly confused. “Ohhhh, you little shit. You watched without me?!”

 

“Mmm, sorry,” Stiles says, too tired to care he accidentally spilled his own secret. “You were at work all day and I got out early and I was bored.”

 

“That makes two holy trinity rules broken!” Isaac says. You mixed Marvel and DC and you watched one of our shows alone.”

 

“At least I didn’t go to Comic Con without you. Three strikes and I’m out, right? Just put it on, I’ll watch again with you.”

“No, it’s not the same!” Isaac protests. “You’ll just poke me anytime something good’s about to happen and you’ll talk over it. Don’t even pretend you wouldn’t, because we both know it’s exactly what’ll happen.”

 

“I’ll be quiet. Promise,” Stiles says.  Isaac pouts, putting it on anyway, pretty sure Stiles will fall asleep pretty quickly anyway. Sure enough, by the time the title credits come on, Stiles has become dead weight in Isaac’s lap. Running his fingers through Stiles’ hair, Isaac is suddenly hit by a wave of something he can’t describe. It’s a combination of the most intense love he’s ever felt for Stiles and a nagging, guilty feeling he can’t seem to shake.

 

He knows the feeling of dread all too well. He’s familiar with the way his heart beat quickens for a split second when he first feels the guilt pooling in his stomach. When he decided to become a Marine, he knew the chances of deployment were high. Back then, he was okay with that. But now, the thought of leaving and how guilty it makes him feel puts his stomach in knots. Ever since he and Stiles got serious, Isaac has been living in constant fear he’s going to get the call one day and have to be gone the next. It’s not the type of fear that consumes him, but the type that catches him off guard in moments like this one, where the thought of having to leave makes his whole body hurt.

 

Fingers brushing through Stiles’ hair, Isaac can’t help but wonder when the call will come. Surely, the government didn’t pay for his first-rate education so that he could work at the Academy for five years. As much as he tells himself he can fulfill his mandatory service by holding on to his position in Annapolis, he knows he’s going to have to put his skills to use and serve some time sooner or later. He can’t help but feel selfish for wishing it’s the latter. He barely pays attention to the rest of the episode, too lost in his thoughts.

 

When it’s over, Isaac coughs loudly and gently bounces his knee, hoping it’s enough to wake Stiles up. He doesn’t even budge. “Stiles,” Isaac tries, shaking him. “Hey, wake up.”

 

“Hmm?” Stiles murmurs, turning over and burying his face in Isaac’s chest. He snakes his arms around Isaac’s torso, clutching the material of the back of Isaac’s shirt and making a content noise. “No, wake up,” Isaac practically whispers. Stiles mumbles something into Isaac’s chest, tightening his grip and practically burrowing into Isaac.

“Stiles, no,” Isaac says.

 

“Stiles, yes,” Stiles replies, refusing to move.

 

“You have to get up. Scott’s show is in like an hour,” Isaac says.  

 

“Noooo,” Stiles protests, shaking his head against Isaac’s chest. “You’re warm. And you smell good.”

 

“We’re gonna be late,” Isaac warns, even though it’s more obligatory than anything else. He doesn’t really care either way if they never make it to Scott’s show if it means staying with Stiles like this all night. But when they’ll get an earful from Scott about not coming, Isaac has to be able to defend himself. “Come on, we can do this later.”

 

“No,” Stiles whines, face still hidden in Isaac’s shirt. “I don’t wanna.”

 

“Okay, what if we go and have a drink and stay long enough to make sure Scott sees us. Then, we can leave early and come back here and order in food and watch a movie,” Isaac suggests.

 

Stiles lets out a noise of protest, to which he is met with Isaac’s exasperated “Let’s go, come on.”  Stiles unlatches himself from Isaac and groans, rolling off of the couch and onto the floor dramatically. “Are you serious?” Isaac laughs.

 

“Serious is my middle name,” Stiles retorts, standing up and yawning. “Actually, no, it’s my first name.”

 

“Actually, I’m pretty sure your first name-”  
  
“DON’T SAY IT!” Stiles shouts, jumping on top of Isaac and clamping his hand over his mouth. Isaac tries to speak, but Stiles’ hand is still over his mouth. He settles for poking his tongue out of his mouth and licking a stripe across Stiles’ palm. Stiles scrunches his nose up when he realizes what Isaac did. “Ewwwww, cooties,” he whines, yanking his hand back and rubbing it on his jeans.

  
  
  


They stay at Scott’s band’s show for a little while, but about forty minutes in, Stiles nudges Isaac. “I want to go.” Isaac doesn’t protests, just grabs Stiles hand and walks to the bar to settle their tab. They spend the walk home arguing over who would make the best female Captain America, fingers laced together the entire time.

  
  
  


“Mine or yours?” Isaac asks when they get to their building.

 

“Yours,” Stiles replies. “Scott’s probably going to bring Allison back after the show.”

 

“Yep, definitely mine,” Isaac agrees.  

 

“What do you want to eat?” Stiles asks once they’re inside, following Isaac into his bedroom with a handful of delivery menus.

 

“Don’t care. You pick,” Isaac replies, pulling his shirt over his head. “What are you in the mood for?”

 

“That,” Stiles replies, wiggling his eyebrows at Isaac’s bare chest.

 

“You’re ridiculous,” Isaac grins, although he takes his time finding a shirt to put on. “Pick something, though. I’m starving.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says, putting his hands in the air in defeat. “Well, I want dumplings and I wear the pants in this relationship, so Chinese it is.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. YOU wear the pants in this relationship? You barely wear pants as is,” Isaac protests as Stiles turns to leave.

 

“Hey!” Stiles pokes his head back in the room. “Just because I like to be free from the constraints of denim as often as possible doesn’t mean I can’t wear metaphorical pants! And I don’t recall you ever having a problem with me wearing my boxers around.”

 

Isaac quickly pulls a t-shirt over his head. “I never said I had a problem with you-”

 

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “In fact, I remember one night in particular where you wouldn’t let me put-”

 

“Alright, so Chinese it is!” Isaac interrupts. Stiles flashes him a grin. “You know my order?” Isaac asks as Stiles wanders back to the kitchen to get a phone.

  
“Of course,” Stiles calls back. Isaac can’t help but smile to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not much plottiness happened here, but who doesn't like fluff?! anyway, i hope you guys are enjoying reading this as much as i'm enjoying writing it! please let me know what you think, good or bad, and as always, many thanks to natalie!


	6. miss lion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to natalie as always, she totally rocks!

Later that night, Isaac turns the tables and steals Stiles’ favorite position. He stretches his legs out, dangling his feet over the arm of the sofa and places his head in Stiles’ lap. After a remarkably short-lived protest, Stiles gives in. 

“You know,” Stiles says after a while, running his fingers through Isaac’s hair lazily. “I think we’re pretty good together.” Isaac is somewhat taken aback at Stiles sharing a sentiment like that so outright. Neither of them have ever been big on sharing their feelings, even about each other. There’s no doubt that they love each other, but hell, it took them nearly seven months before they actually said it. 

“Yeah,” says Isaac. “I think we are.”

 “I, uh, have something I want to tell you,” Stiles says a little tentatively, pausing the TV.

 Isaac gasps. “You’re pregnant?” he asks playfully, sitting up.

 “God dammit, Isaac! How’d you know?” Stiles laughs, which seems to calm his nerves. “No, but in all seriousness. I want to talk.”

 “Okay, let’s talk,” Isaac says. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been taking creative writing classes after my shifts at the coffee house at the community college uptown and I’ve only been going for a couple months so far but I love it and it’s not something I want to stop soon and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier I know I should have but I didn’t want to tell anyone until I knew if it was something I was going to like and it is I mean Isaac I love it and-” 

“Take a breath,” Isaac says. 

“Sorry,” Stiles says, returning Isaac’s smile as he pauses. “It’s okay if you’re mad. You have every right to be. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I know I should have. I just-” 

“Mad?” Isaac cuts him off. “How could I be mad? You’re doing something you really like. That’s amazing.”

“I do really like it,” Stiles replies. “My professor’s taken a liking to me, too. He, uh, he told me he thinks I have what it takes to get published.” 

“Stiles!” Isaac exclaims. “That’s so great! You’ve been talking about writing a book since, like, our first date.”

“That rhymed!” Stiles interjects, holding his hand up for a high five. Isaac laughs, returning the high five with a smile.

 “Listen, I’m not mad. Seriously. I could never be mad about something like this. I’m like, as far from mad as I could be.”

 “Promise?” Stiles asks.

Isaac nods without hesitation. “I’m happy for you,” he says, leaning over Stiles and pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “And excited for you.” He moves his lips to Stiles’ neck. “And proud of you,” he adds as his lips brush Stiles’ jaw. 

“Yeah? What else?” Stiles all but whispers, his warm breath ghosting over Isaac’s lips. 

“Did I say proud? Because I’m really. Really. Really. Really proud of you,” Isaac replies softly, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ lips each time he pauses. Stiles says something in return, but whatever it is becomes muffled when Isaac kisses him again, this time deeper and heavier than all the others.

 --

“So,” Stiles says almost a year later, letting himself into Isaac’s apartment. Stiles still technically lives with Scott, since Scott can’t afford the rent by himself, but he spends almost all of his time up here with Isaac. It’s nice because he keeps most of his things downstairs with Scott, and whenever Isaac stays overnight in Washington DC for work, Stiles sleeps in his apartment where he won’t be alone. It’s weird, but it works for them.

“Is that the new word for hello?” Isaac asks from the kitchen, where he’s putting groceries away.

“Yes,” Stiles says. “So,” he repeats, kissing Isaac on the cheek and putting his things down on the counter. “I was thinking.”

 “Well, you know what they say. There’s a first time for everything,” Isaac snarks.

 “Go to hell,” Stiles laughs, beginning to unpack one of the bags. “Anyway. I was thinking about our anniversary.”

 “What about it?”

 “Just that it’s gonna be two years next week. And I know we said no gifts this time but that’s just something people say, everyone obviously wants something. And what better gift than one we can both enjoy?”

 “Oh god,” Isaac laughs, tossing Stiles a box of Pop Tarts. “Okay, lay it on me.”

 “Hold the fuck up! Did you seriously buy unfrosted blueberry Pop Tarts?!” Stiles all but yells. “We’ve been over this! There is a definitive ranking, and it goes: cookies and cream, hot fudge sundae, everything else, the dirt on the bottom of my shoe, and _then_ unfrosted blueberry.” 

“Chill out, drama queen. Yours are right here,” Isaac grins and chucks another box at Stiles, who barely catches it in time. 

“Aw,” Stiles says, face softening as he clutches the cookies and cream Pop Tart box to his heart. “Babe! You really are the love of my life.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Isaac says over his shoulder. “Just kidding. You know I love you.” 

“Good, you better,” Stiles replies without skipping a beat. “So this gift…” 

“Let me hear it.”

“Drumroll please,” Stiles says as he beats his hands against his stomach, Isaac stopping in his tracks to do the same. “I think we are ready to have a dog.”

 “A dog?” Isaac raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, a dog! We’re totally ready! And we could pick a really cute one and name it something super cool, like Miss Lion or something.” 

“Miss Lion like Peter Parker’s Aunt May’s dog?” Isaac asks. 

“Of course. Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.” 

“You’re serious? A dog?” Isaac asks. 

“Yes! It would be so cute. You know you would love the shit out of it.” 

“I’m not denying that!” Isaac replies. “What kind of dog are we talking here? Big or small?”

“Something big, but not huge. I’m not about to get a little wimpy thing that yelps all day.”

“That sounds great, but-”

“But?” Stiles asks, smile falling from his face.

“I just don’t know if it makes sense, Stiles,” Isaac says honestly. “You’re at work from six until one, and then you have class until five every day. I’m gone at work all day, too. We would have to walk it since we don’t have a yard here, and what happens if it’s a total brat?”

“No, you’re right. It was just a dumb idea,”  Stiles says. His face shows no emotion, but Isaac can hear the hint of rejection in his voice.     

“It isn’t a dumb idea!” Isaac protests. “It’s a great idea. It just might not work out right now. It’s not a definite no, but you do understand where I’m coming from, yeah?”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Stiles nods. “It’s not a no forever though, right?”

“Absolutely not. When our schedules calm down and you move out of the apartment with Scott for good and we’re both in one place all the time, we can think about it again. I promise it’s not an absolute no.”

Stiles nods again, still feeling rejected despite Isaac’s words. “Okay. You’re right. Now just isn’t the time.”

“Don’t be mad at me,” Isaac walks over to where Stiles is sitting on the counter.

“I’m not!” Stiles protests, although fairly unconvincing.

“Stiles,” Isaac says, stepping between his legs and placing his hands on Stiles’ knees. “Seriously. Please don’t be mad at me. I’m not shooting you down.”

“I know, I know,” Stiles replies. “But just think of how cute it would be!” he practically whines.

Isaac can’t help but crack a smile. “I’m not denying that! Just…. I mean…” Isaac fumbles for the right words. “Okay, I got it. It’s like a pregnant teenager. She knows she can’t give her baby the life it deserves, so she exercises her right to choose and aborts it. Or she gives it up for adoption. It’s just like that! We know that we can’t give a dog the best life possible right now, so we’re going to wait until we’re ready.”

“In this scenario, am I the pregnant teenager?” Stiles asks thoughtfully. Isaac nods, breaking into a smile. “So that makes you the quarterback who knocked me up after homecoming when we were drunk on wine coolers?” Stiles says with a grin.

“Yep, that’s me,” Isaac returns his smile. “So, my cheerleader princess… would you like to watch The Avengers in bed and then have “I’m sorry” sex?”

“What did I say about questions you know the answer to?!” Stiles demands with a laugh. “Of course I do. I want to run downstairs and get my laptop charger though. Scott’s just broke so he was borrowing it. While I’m gone can you set up the movie? My computer’s in my bag if you want to use it.”

“Of course,” Isaac replies, pecking Stiles on the lips and stepping back so he can jump down from the counter.

“Don’t miss me too much,” Stiles says as he walks to the door.

“No promises,” Isaac replies. He puts a bag of popcorn in the microwave and looks around for Stiles’ bag. Once he finds it beneath Stiles’ coat by the door, he pulls out his laptop. Sure enough, it’s on four percent. He brings it over to the couch and opens up Chrome to get to Netflix, and his stomach does a flip when he sees the open tabs.

Stiles had been looking at dogs, presumably for a while, if the sixteen tabs open were any indication. Following a hunch, Isaac clicks on the bookmarks bar, where sure enough, there’s a folder titled “POTENTIAL MISS LIONS” Inside the folder is countless web pages with dogs up for adoption. Isaac feels absolutely horrible. He knew Stiles wanted this, but he didn’t realize how serious about it he was. He feels like the worst boyfriend in the history of the world for shutting him down.

His thoughts are interrupted by Stiles flying through the door.

“Ohmigod do I smell popcorn?” Stiles asks excitedly. He detours into the kitchen and opens the microwave, where the bag has finished cooking. “I do smell popcorn! Ugh, you’re the real MVP,” he says, dumping it into a bowl and bringing it over to the living room.

By this time, Isaac has opened a new window and loaded the movie. He’s still feeling absolutely awful about himself, but he’s ready to just be with Stiles and try to forget about the whole dog thing. Stiles takes Isaac’s hand, pulling him up from the couch. “I thought you said movie in _bed_. Get movin’ so we can watch this movie and I can have my wicked way with you.”

“Roger that” Isaac says, following Stiles into the bedroom with a laugh.

 --

A week later, Stiles is woken up to lips on his. “Mmfh,” he mumbles into Isaac’s mouth, returning the kiss without hesitation. “Happy anniversary,” Isaac says when he pulls away, locking eyes with Stiles. “I have something for you.”

“Is it better than morning sex?” Stiles asks.

“Hmmm,” Isaac thinks. “I think so, yes.”

“Then let me have it!” Stiles exclaims, sitting up quickly and knocking his forehead into Isaac’s.

“Ow!” Isaac protests. “What are you, fifteen?” 

“I don’t know. How old is the pregnant cheerleader usually?” Stiles replies without missing a beat. Isaac tries not to laugh as he wonders how Stiles' mind can possibly move that fast and how he got lucky enough to be with the funniest guy on the planet.

“Sixteen,” Isaac deadpans, reaching around Stiles to grab the small bag on the night stand.

“Ooh, what is it?! Hand it over!” Stiles is practically bouncing up and down with excitement at this point.

“Calm down!” Isaac laughs, though he does pass Stiles the bag.

Stiles is about to dig through the tissue paper when he stops in his tracks. “Oh, wait. I didn’t do the obligatory ‘we said no gifts’ thing where I pretend I’m reluctant to accept it.”

Isaac laughs audibly. “Shut up,” he replies. “I think I know you well enough by now to know you always want something.”

“And I guess I know you well enough to know I was going to be getting something anyway,” Stiles says with a cheeky grin.

“Go, open it! Card first, though.”

“Ugh, what are you, my grandma?” Stiles groans. “Card first,” he mocks Isaac, who throws a pillow at his face. Stiles throws it back at him with a laugh. “Careful, Lahey. You may have fancy military training but I can still kick your ass.”

“Are you kidding?” Isaac raises his eyebrows, trying to hold back his laughter. “I could kill you with my bare hands!”

“In your dreams, bitch!” Stiles laughs, shoving Isaac onto his back and pressing him against the mattress. “See?” he asks, bringing his face close to Isaac’s. “Got you.”

“Oh, you want to play this game?” Isaac asks cheekily. “We’ll play this game.” He slips out from Stiles’ grip and rolls over, pinning Stiles to the mattress in one swift motion. Stiles tries to fight Isaac's hold, but eventually gives up with a defeated laugh.

“Ugh, fine!” Stiles grins, “You win, Second Lieutenant Lahey.”

“Yeah I do," Isaac pokes Stiles in the chest playfully. "But you love me,” Isaac half asks, half states.

“Only on days that end in y,” Stiles lifts his head and kisses Isaac. “Now get off of me so I can open my gift, you asshole!”

Isaac leans down and kisses Stiles again before rolling off him and letting him sit up. Stiles tears open the card and reads it over twice.

 

_Hey loser-_

_You know what they say... one’s company, two’s a crowd, and three’s a party. What do you say we make 3G a party?_

_Your favorite asshole,_

_Isaac_

“What do you…” Stiles begins.

“Open it,” Isaac replies, nerves bubbling up in his stomach. Stiles pulls a small white box out of the bag and takes the lid off. Inside is a dog tag that reads “Miss Lion” next to a key.

“What is this?” Stiles ask, voice quiet.

“Scott told me that he and Allison are finally ready to move in together. So this is yours,” Isaac says, holding up the key. “I mean, it’s the same one you’ve had for like a year, but it’s the key to our apartment now.”

“And this?” Stiles asks, holding up the dog tag with fingers shaky from excitement.

“That’s the tag that’s going to go on our dog’s collar. When we pick her out later today,” Isaac says. 

Stiles drops the tag back into the box and launches himself at Isaac. He knocks him onto his back and presses a kiss to his lips. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. You know that, right?” 

“I know,” Isaac smiles, kissing Stiles gently. “I love you, too. So much. You’re the best thing in my life. And I’m really happy we’re doing this.” 

“Ew, don’t get all mushy on me!” Stiles protests, kissing Isaac again and rolling off of him.  “Stay right here.”

Isaac does as he’s told as Stiles practically rolls off the bed and runs out into the kitchen. He returns in less than a minute with a card in his hand. He jumps back onto the bed and drops the card on Isaac’s chest. “Go ahead, your turn.”

Isaac sits up and opens the card. There’s another smaller envelope inside that he puts aside while he reads Stiles’ chicken scratch.

 

_Hey Asshole!_

_Remember that phone conversation we had two years ago?_

_Love youuuuuu,_

_Sti_

_PS: No word back from Barack yet. Don’t hold your breath._

 

Isaac’s mouth falls open in surprise when he realizes what phone conversation Stiles is talking about. “You didn’t!” he exclaims, opening up the smaller envelope. 

“Oh, but I did,” Stiles replies. 

Isaac pulls out two tickets to San Diego Comic-Con and two airline tickets to San Diego. “You are the fucking best,” Isaac says incredulously.

“Yeah, but we already knew that,” Stiles replies.

“Seriously, Stiles.” Isaac places the tickets back in their envelope, smile practically glued to his face. “This is like, the coolest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Not as cool as your gift, though,” Stiles admits.

“Are you kidding?! This is fucking amazing, Stiles. I can’t even imagine the lengths you had to go to get these.”

“I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows. 

“We have eleven whole months to plan, too,” Isaac says. 

“You mean eleven months until I look better than you?” Stiles grins.

Isaac laughs. “Shut up, loser.”

Stiles grins, climbing on top of Isaac. “You want to make me?”

“Didn’t you say something about not asking questions we know the answer to?” Isaac asks, rolling them over and pinning Stiles to the bed.

“I can make an exception,” Stiles grins.

 

 


	7. we don't do this

Approximately three months after their anniversary is when things start changing. It begins when Isaac starts staying at work longer. Then he starts leaving for work earlier, stops answering Stiles’ texts, comes home some nights reeking of cigarettes and alcohol. A whole week goes by where he doesn’t come home in time to walk the dog (who is amazing, by the way, if Stiles can say so.)

At first, Stiles lets it go. He’s been really busy trying to finish his manuscript for his book, and the new dog has been taking up a lot of his time. He figures Isaac is just stressed about work. He’s been spending more days in DC, and Stiles knows that the conflicts overseas have been taking a toll on everyone at the Naval Academy.

So he doesn’t say anything. Until the third night in a row that Isaac comes home ridiculously late and crawls in bed with alcohol still on his breath.

“Dude, come on,” Stiles groans, rolling over. “You’re drunk. Again.”

“Sorry,” Isaac giggles.

“Where were you? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Erica and I went out after work. Looooong day. I missed you, babe.” Isaac sighs, rolling over to face Stiles’ back.

“I missed you too,” Stiles admits. “But you should’ve texted me back. I was worried about you,” he adds.

“Sorry,” Isaac says again, draping an arm over Stiles. It’s then that Stiles can smell the cigarette smoke on him.

“Were you smoking?” he asks.

“Just a few cigarettes,” Isaac replies. “I was stressed.”

“Just a few?! Isaac, come on! You stink. You think I want to sleep next to that?” Stiles protests.

“I’m sorry!” Isaac whines.

“You know how hard it was for me to quit. Having you coming home smelling like smoke doesn’t help,” Stiles says calmly.

“I know, I know! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have. I’ll sleep in the living room if you want.”

“Of course I don’t want that,” Stiles says with a sigh. “I’m just frustrated. I feel like I never see you anymore. And when I do get to see you, you being drunk and smelling like an ashtray isn’t ideal.”

“You’re right. You’re totally right, I’m sorry,” Isaac sighs. “Love you,” he offers, hand finding Stiles’ own.

“Yeah. You too,” Stiles says, allowing Isaac to lace their fingers together. He sighs quietly, screwing his eyes closed and beginning to count down from one hundred until he finally falls asleep.

\--

“What’s wrong?” Stiles finally asks. A week has passed since he called Isaac out for being drunk and coming home late. This time, he wakes up at three in the morning to pee and finds Isaac on the floor of the living room doing push ups.

“What do you mean?” Isaac replies, skirting around the question as he sits up.

“I mean you’ve been, like, really distant lately. I dunno, I guess you just haven’t been yourself.” Stiles notices Isaac’s neutral face harden a little. “Is everything okay? Like, should I be worried? I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself and everything and you’re like the strongest person I know, but Isaac, if there’s, like, something you’re going through and you don’t want to go through it on your own, you have to let me know, okay? You can always talk to me, you know that, right? And I promise I won’t ever say ‘like’ that many times in one thought ever again, if that makes you feel better.”

Isaac forces a smile and stands up. “I’m fine.”

Stiles sighs. “Okay,” he drops it.

\--

Four days go by until Stiles brings it up again, this time when he wakes up early in the morning to Miss Lion jumping off the bed at the sound of Isaac coming into the apartment.

Stiles checks the clock to see that it’s nearly five in the morning. Thirty four minutes until his alarm goes off for work. “Not to sound super possessive and pissy or anything, but where have you been?” Stiles asks, leaning against the bedroom door frame. “It’s five in the morning. I literally haven’t seen you in twenty four hours.”

“I had to go to DC,” Isaac says, walking past Stiles into the bedroom, pausing briefly to press a quick kiss to Stiles’ forehead. Stiles finds himself sighing in relief that Isaac smells like himself rather than cigarettes and alcohol.

“You didn’t tell me that. I thought you were coming home at eight. I texted you,” Stiles says, following Isaac into the bedroom.

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t check my phone. I was really busy and then it died,” Isaac begins stripping out of his uniform.

Miss Lion bounds into the room, a blur of black and tan fur as she leaps back onto the bed. “Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?” Stiles asks calmly, sitting on the edge of the mattress and stifling a yawn while Isaac wanders around the room.

“Nothing’s going on,” Isaac says.

“Dammit, Isaac. Just talk to me!” Stiles doesn’t mean to explode. He really doesn’t. But the fear and rejection that’s been building up for the last month have gotten the best of him. “I feel like you don’t trust me enough to tell me what’s happening. Stop shutting me out!”

“I’m not shutting you out!” Isaac yells back.

“Then fucking talk to me!” Stiles shouts, jumping up.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Isaac snaps, grabbing his pillow from the bed.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sleeping on the couch. I don’t have to work until ten.”

“No you’re not. Get back here,” Stiles demands.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Isaac storms past Stiles. “Go back to bed and get some sleep. You’ll need it for your low stress job and a day of lounging around with Scott and the dog.”

“Where the hell did that come from?!” Stiles shouts, fighting the urge to call Isaac out on the irony of his words. “Get the fuck back here, Isaac!”

“Sleep with the dog! I’m sure a Corgi is better company than your flaky, irresponsible excuse of a boyfriend, anyway,” Isaac snaps.

“Stop it, Isaac!” Stiles groans.

“Why should I?” Isaac demands.

“Because we don’t do this!” Stiles shouts. “This isn’t us,” he says, voice returning to normal. “Look at us! Nasty fights, sleeping in separate rooms, going a whole day without talking? When the hell did this become normal for us?”

“You’re right,” Isaac says, face softening. “We don’t do this.”

“Can you please just talk to me?” Stiles asks, voice breaking. "Because I... I just don't know what to do. I need you to talk to me."

“I don’t know what to tell you. Honestly. Just… there’s, uh, been a lot going on lately. With work,” comes Isaac’s response.

“Okay,” Stiles says. “Like what?”

“Stiles,” Isaac sighs dismissively. “Not tonight.”

“In case you haven’t realized, Isaac, it’s five o’clock in the morning. Hardly night time,” Stiles says, surprisingly calm.

“Fine,” Isaac nods. “Not this morning, then. I’ve had a long day.”

“You think you’ve had a long day?” Stiles snaps. And just like that, he’s fired up again. “I’ve had a long day, Isaac. I’ve had a long fucking month worrying about you! You think I like waking up to an empty bed? Falling asleep in one, too? You think it’s easy for me to sit here and act like nothing’s wrong?! To kiss you and fuck you and just be in the same damn room with you and pretend I’m not falling asleep every night wondering if you’re out cheating on me?!”

It’s the first time Stiles sees Isaac cry.

“Are you…” Stiles begins, but his voice trails off.

“How could you think that?” Isaac voice is small as his eyes well with tears. “Do you really think I could even consider doing that to you?”

“I don’t know… I just… You’re never here. You ignore my texts or give me short answers. I offer to pick you up from work and you say no. I fall asleep alone some nights because you’re still out godknowswhere and you haven’t responded to me all day. How could I not think something is up?”

“Stiles,” Isaac says, voice cracking. “You have to believe me. I would never do that to you. You have to know that.”

“I do know that. Or at least I did up until some point. I don’t know anymore. You’re just so distant these days, and it’s fucking difficult!” Stiles is blinking back hot tears. “I… I finished my manuscript last week and I couldn’t even tell you that.”

“You finished your manuscript?” Isaac asks. “Stiles, that’s amazing. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have cared!” Stiles practically yells. “Do you know how shitty that makes me feel? The biggest thing I’ve ever done and I was too scared to share it with you because I thought you would be too busy or you just wouldn’t care.”

“How could you think that?!” Isaac asks, voice watery.

“I don’t know!” Stiles cries. “You were my biggest supporter the entire time, and I finally finished it and I’m more proud of it than anything I’ve ever done. And I was too scared to share it with you! And it absolutely kills me.”

“I’m sorry,” Isaac sighs, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Stiles looks down at the floor, unable to meet Isaac’s eyes as he speaks. “It sucks so much, do you realize that? Tonight, I got into our empty bed at one o’clock with no word from you in twelve hours. For all I know you could have been dead in the street somewhere. It’s not a good feeling, Isaac, I can tell you that much.”

“You don’t deserve that,” Isaac replies, voice low. “You don’t deserve me. You’re so much better than this and I’m never going to be good enough for you, I-”

“I’m not leaving you if that’s what you’re about to say,” Stiles interrupts. He knows it’s on Isaac’s mind, and just the thought of it being mentioned turns his stomach.

“But-” Isaac tries.

“No. No ‘buts’. We… we don’t do that,” Stiles cuts him off, a look crossing his face Isaac has rarely seen before. He thinks it’s fear. “Leave when things get rough? We don’t do that. We also don’t do things that get us to a point like this. But here we are, and something has to change. God, I don’t even know what I would do without you! But…”

“But what?”

Stiles voice is quiet and shaky. “I don’t want it to be like this.”

“Things are going to change,” Isaac says. “They’re going to get better, I promise. Today, I’m going to come home early. We’re going to lay on the couch and have dinner and watch The Avengers and it’s just going to be us all night. We’ll talk about everything, and we’ll fix things. I promise.”

“Really?” Stiles asks.

“Really, really.” Isaac nods.

“You’re not getting rid of me this easily,” Stiles replies, allowing a small smile to creep onto his face.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Can you come to bed now please?” Stiles asks. Isaac nods, grabbing his pillow from the couch. “I have to be getting ready in, like, a half hour.”

“I love you, Stiles. So much, okay? I’ve been a jerk and you don’t deserve me, and-"

“You’re an asshole,” Stiles agrees. “But you’re my favorite asshole and I don’t really want to live without you. Besides, I already memorized the wifi password so leaving at this point would just be a hassle.”

Isaac laughs, eyes shining as he does. “You are so much better than I am,” he says, reaching for Stiles’ hand and squeezing it. “I don’t know how-”

“Every second you spend talking is a second we could be spending having make-up sex,” Stiles interrupts. Isaac grins, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ lips chastely and pulling him into the bedroom.

\--

Later that day, Erica corners Isaac in the locker room after work. “Who pissed in your cheerios this morning, Lahey?”

“No one, Erica.”

“No one? Is that your new name for Stiles now?” Erica asks.

“Go to hell,” Isaac mumbles.

“Ooh, I struck a nerve. Wonderful,” Erica grins, sitting down next to Isaac on the wooden bench running between the rows of lockers. “Start talking.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Isaac replies, refusing to look up from where he’s tying his shoes. **  
**

“Oh, bullshit!” Erica cries. “You’ve had a stick lodged up your ass all day. Will you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“No.”

“Did Stiles freak out when you told him? Still having some backlash?”

Isaac sighs. “No.”

“So he took it well?” Erica is met with silence. “Oh my god, you didn’t tell him?!”

“Not yet,” Isaac admits.

“Isaac!” Erica cries, slapping Isaac’s arm. “What the fuck, man? You need to tell him!”

“I can’t!” Isaac replies. “Every time I think I’m going to, I chicken out. We had a huge fight this morning, too.”

“Make-up sex?” Erica asks.

“Didn’t help,” Isaac sighs. “I mean it was good, don’t get me wrong. But it didn’t fix things, no matter how much we both insist it did. I mean, the fight was bad. I mentioned him leaving.”

“Oh, shit, Isaac. So it was a big fight?”

“Biggest one we’ve ever had,” Isaac admits.

Erica shakes her head. “God, okay. What was it about?"

“He said I’ve been really distant.”

Erica sighs. “Okay, obviously he had a reason to say that. What’ve you done?”

“I know, I know. It’s my fault, I have been distant. I don’t answer his texts sometimes, and I stay out late either with you and Boyd, with Derek, or just by myself. Sometimes I go to my Aunt’s and don’t tell him. When I am home we don’t talk a lot or really do much together.”

“Did he do something wrong?” Erica asks.

“No! No, he’s…. he’s perfect and he’s so patient with me and I just fucked everything up all on my own.”

“Isaac!” Erica slaps him upside the head. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“I don’t know!” Isaac practically yells. “I just…. I thought…”

“You thought if you could make the relationship a little rocky it wouldn’t be so hard on him when you told him about the job,” Erica says knowingly. “Better yet, if you could get him to break up with you, you wouldn’t have to actually tell him. And he would get over you and it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“Shit, Erica,” Isaac groans. “How do you do that?”

“Do what? Read you like a book?” She laughs. He nods. “It’s easy. Boyd and I were doing it to each other before we found out we both got the job.”

“How did you fix it?” Isaac asks.

“I realized what he was doing and he realized what I was doing and we called each other out. All good though, since we’re going to be working together. So, I mean, unless Stiles is highly skilled in intel and about to be hired by the US government, you should probably talk to him.”

“You’re right. You’re totally right.”

“A job like this? It’s a big change, Isaac. One that affects him, too. So go. Talk to him. And pull the stick out of your ass while you’re at it,” Erica grins, lightly slapping Isaac’s cheek twice before getting up and practically sauntering away.

“Fuck you,” Isaac snarks. “But thanks. Seriously.”

“Get your ass in gear, Lahey!” Erica shouts over her shoulder. “You have a relationship to fix!”

\--

As promised, Isaac comes home the earliest he has in weeks. He comes through the door armed with takeout and a six pack of Stiles’ favorite beer. “My hero!” Stiles exclaims, getting up from the floor where he was playing with Miss Lion and running into the kitchen.

“Avengers?” Isaac asks. 

“Already cued up,” Stiles replies, pulling chinese containers out of the plastic bag.

“Ugh. Light of my life,” Isaac says, scooping food into Miss Lion’s bowl and setting it down for her.

“That’s me!” Stiles replies with a grin. Gone is the Isaac from the past month, Stiles thinks. His old Isaac is back and it feels so good.

“Hey, why do we always watch this movie?” Stiles asks, settling in next to Isaac on the couch.

“I don’t know,” Isaac admits. “I mean, we can always agree on it. And we’re always in the mood to watch it.”

“True,” Stiles agrees. “It never gets old.”

“Besides,” Isaac replies. “It’s kind of like our thing.”

“Eating, cuddling, and watching The Avengers,” Stiles nods. “No complaints here.”

“No place I’d rather be,” Isaac smiles.

After the movie is over, the two of them are lying on the couch, a tangle of limbs as Stiles snores softly. Isaac looks down at his sleeping boyfriend, wondering how he got so lucky. At the same time, he’s hit with a wave of nerves. He knows that they still need to talk about everything, and he knows there’s no good way to tell Stiles the truth. He shoves the nerves aside and lets himself fall asleep to the sound of Stiles’ breathing.

A little while later, Isaac opens his eyes when Stiles gets off of him, the loss of his weight enough to wake Isaac up. “Mmm, hi,” Isaac says sleepily, pulling Stiles back down.

“Hi,” Stiles replies, kissing Isaac softly.

“We should talk,” Isaac says, the words surprising him as they come out of his mouth.

“Yeah, we should,” Stiles nods, sitting up.

Isaac sits up, turning to face Stiles. “Mmmh,” he mumbles, stretching his arms above his head. “Okay, so.”

“So.”

Isaac sighs. “I’ve had a lot going on with work lately. I’m sorry I’ve been distant, but I’m glad you’re able to forgive me.”

“And I’m glad you realized what you were doing and that it was hurting me,” Stiles states.

Isaac nods. “I don’t want you to think that I take you for granted. You’re my favorite part of life, and losing you is not an option.”

“Oh my god, we need to stop this,” Stiles laughs, unable to maintain his composure any longer. “It sounds like we’re in fucking couples therapy.”

Isaac nods in agreement. “Okay, how’s this: I fucked up and I’m sorry. You’re the shit for forgiving me and I love you.”

“Way better,” Stiles replies. “Tonight was really good. It reminded me of times before things started changing. I wish every night could be like tonight, honestly.”

Stiles’ words make the pit in Isaac’s stomach grow larger. “I know,” Isaac agrees. “Me too. Just… I want to explain why things have been different, though.”

“Go ahead,” Stiles offers a reassuring smile, squeezing Isaac’s hand.

“I’m bound by confidentiality to some extent, so I’m going to explain it the best I can, and then you can ask me whatever you want and I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Okay, take your time,” Stiles nods.

Isaac takes a deep breath, trying to come up with the right words. “I don’t think I ever told you this, but a few days before you and I met, I requested deployment. I wasn’t in the best place- I was bored and lonely, and I just sort of felt stuck. But then I met you and that stuck-feeling went away. A few weeks later, my request was denied anyway.”

“What’s bad about that? Your request was denied, and you were able to stay here,” Stiles questions.

“Nothing was bad about that!” Isaac replies. “Trust me. It was the best possible thing, because I got the chance to get to know you. But about a month ago, I was told that there’s a special project in the works, and I’ve been chosen to join the team.”

“What is it?”

“This is where it gets tricky. All I can tell you is that it’s an intel assignment. There’s eight of us, and they hand-picked us, and it’s a really big deal. Most of the time, our assignments come from superior officers, but not this one. It came from the president. I, uh, I can’t pass it up.”

“Pass it up?! Are you insane, Isaac? I would hope you wouldn’t even consider passing it up- an opportunity to be on an intel team assembled by the president? You’d be crazy to say no,” Stiles says.

“I thought about it,” Isaac admits. “I actually denied it at first, until I found out all the details and realized I can’t pass it up. I just… I don’t want to leave right now.”

“Leave?” Stiles asks, confused. “You said it’s intel… can’t you do that from the Pentagon or DC like all the other intel assignments you’ve done?”

Isaac shakes his head. “Not this one. It’s not as short as the other ones I’ve done. And, uh, the connections we have are based in Afghanistan. There are a bunch of different factors, but the bottom line is that we can’t risk communicating over thousands of miles. It’s crucial to be in the same place. And, there’s some combat involved.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles asks, fearing the words he knows will cross Isaac’s lips.

“I’m being deployed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again to my awesome beta natalie! 
> 
> my tumblr, if you wanna say hi and cry about stisaac together: hello-lahey.tumblr.com


	8. it's you

“Stiles,” Isaac says slowly. “Did you hear me?” 

Stiles nods, but his eyes remained fixed on the wall behind Isaac. “Do you have anything you want to say?” Isaac asks.

“How long have you known?” Stiles asks. Isaac chews on his lip nervously, knowing there’s no way around the question. 

“Since the middle of October. So, about a month?” 

Stiles is silent for a second before a look of anger comes over his face. Isaac opens his mouth to speak, but Stiles holds up a finger and cuts him off. "You were trying to make me break up with you, weren’t you?" Stiles asks. He’s met with silence. "Weren’t you?!" he demands. 

"I…I don’t know! I just… I thought it would be easier if we were broken up," Isaac admits. 

"Why didn’t you just break up with me?" Stiles asks. 

"I didn’t want to hurt you!"

"Well you did!" Stiles shouts, jumping off the couch with angry tears in his eyes. "God, Isaac, how you could you keep this from me?" he demands, crossing the room and practically tripping over the dog in the process.

"I’m sorry!" Isaac sighs, his voice dropping down to a whisper. “I’m.. I’m sorry.”

"I mean this is something we knew could happen from the beginning. Did you not think I could handle it?" Stiles tugs at his hair as he paces the floor.

"No," Isaac shakes his head.

"Then what?"

"I don’t know ! I just… I guess I didn’t want you to feel trapped. Like you felt obligated to stay with me.”

"You think that you leaving would determine if I ended our relationship?" Stiles asks, lowering his voice. 

"I don’t know!"

"Because it won’t," Stiles says. 

"But will this?" Isaac asks, gesturing between the two of them. 

"I don’t know, Isaac! You LIED to me. You treated me like crap for the last month and you didn’t tell me something that’s pretty fucking huge!" Stiles says, raising his voice once more.

"I didn’t know what else to do!" Isaac argues, coming closer to Stiles.

Stiles backs away from Isaac with an outstretched hand, making it clear he’s not done fighting. "Tell me! Give me time to process! Be honest!" Stiles shouts. "I deserve that much!"

"You know what? You’re right. And you don’t deserve someone like that...someone like me. You deserve better, so here’s your out. I’m giving it to you now. Take it!" Isaac yells.

"My out?!" Stiles demands.

"Yes, your out. You deserve better than me so go ahead and take it! Leave me!" Isaac yells. 

"Leave you? Isaac, I’m fucking in love with you! I’m not going to take an out!" Stiles yells back.

“You think I don’t love you just as much? You think I want you to leave? Of course not!” Isaac’s shaking by now. Whether it’s anger, fear, sleep deprivation or a combination of the three, he isn’t sure. “I want to be with you, but I can’t… I can’t risk hurting you any more! You deserve better than this and I-”

“Shut up! Just…. shut up, Isaac! You don’t get to decide what’s good for me, and what I deserve, okay?! I make that call, and I deserve everything about you. I love you and just because you piss me off sometimes doesn’t mean I’m going to fucking abandon you! You have to stop with that!” 

“But you-”

“I said stop! I’m not leaving and that’s final. I’m here for the long run, don’t you realize that by now?”

“But-”

“Isaac, stop!” Stiles shouts, his voice so loud he surprises himself. He closes the distance between the two of them, placing his hands gently on Isaac’s shoulders. “I… I hate this. I don’t want to fight.”

“Me either,” Isaac admits, voice low. “What happened to us?” Stiles shrugs with a sigh. 

“I remember the first time we fought,” Isaac says. “You didn’t take off your shoes and you got muddy footprints all over the carpet in here.”

“I remember,” Stiles’ eyes light up. “I had never seen you mad like that. It was what, like five months in?”

Isaac nods, a small smile playing on his face. “I didn’t even care about the carpet. The mud would have come out so easily but I’d had a shitty day and I needed to yell about something.”

“I yelled right back at you, if I remember correctly,” Stiles grins. 

“Oh, you did. You so did!” Isaac replies, breaking into a grin to match Stiles’. They slip into silence, sharing a sad smile.“This isn’t going to ruin us, is is?” Isaac asks quietly, eyes shining. “Because I know I fucked up. But Stiles, I just… if this is the end, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Isaac,” Stiles begins. Isaac shakes his head, cutting Stiles off. 

“I can’t let this be it for us, but if it is, I get it.” Isaac runs a hand over his face as he collects his thoughts. “Fuck, Stiles. I love you so much but I just… I just can’t stand hurting you. And I’m so conflicted. Because you deserve so much better than that- than me. But… I don’t know,” Isaac trails off.

“But what?” Stiles asks. 

“But I want to be selfish!” Isaac finally says, the words suddenly tumbling out of his mouth with no uncertainty behind them. “I never get to be selfish and I want to be selfish for once, okay? I want to be selfish and get what I want and it’s you. You’re what I want. You’re… you’re all I want. And this can’t be it for us, because I need to be selfish and I need to have you because you are the only person who makes me feel like me. You’re the only face I want to see after a day from hell. You’re the only one I want complaining that I eat boring foods, and you’re the only one I want to see shitty bands and drink cheap beer with. It’s you who I want next to me watching Avengers for the thousandth time and fuck, Stiles, it’s always been you.” The words continue to spill out of Isaac’s mouth effortlessly. “I’ve never doubted us, not for a second. Not until now. You make me a better person and you make me feel like I’m actually worth something and I’m in so fucking deep. But I fucked up so bad and I’m scared I lost everything.”

Stiles takes a deep breath, fighting the tears creeping up on him. The last thing he wants is for Isaac to see him cry. He steps past Isaac and grabs his coat off of the hook next to the door. 

“Where are you going?” Isaac asks, a look of fear and uneasiness crossing his face. “You just said you weren’t-”

“I’m not leaving you. You… you didn’t lose everything,” Stiles sighs, blinking back tears as he runs a hand through his hair. “I just…. I want to clear my head. I’ll be back. Promise.” 

And with that, Stiles is out the door, hot tears pricking at his eyes.


	9. do you really have to ask?

Stiles returns two hours later with a pint of mint chip ice cream and a half-empty pack of cigarettes. He leaves the smokes in his jacket pocket, but sets the ice cream down on the kitchen counter and rummages around for a couple of clean spoons. 

“Hi,” he says when he hears Isaac approach, not lifting his gaze from the silverware drawer. He says a silent prayer that Isaac doesn’t notice that he’s been smoking. 

“Hi,” Isaac replies. Stiles silently offers Isaac a spoon and pulls the lid off the container. 

They lean over opposite sides of the counter, the ice cream in the middle as they barely make eye contact. They eat in silence for a minute or two, the only sound the occasional clinking of their spoons as they collide in the communal carton. Stiles finally speaks as they near the end of the pint. 

“Permission to speak freely?” he asks through a mouthful of ice cream. 

“Granted,” Isaac nods. 

“It kills me when you get like this. You just… you don’t realize how great you are. And it’ll never stop bothering me.” Stiles pauses, swallowing another spoonful ice cream before continuing. “And this talk of me leaving and- and not deserving you? It absolutely wrecks me that you could actually believe that.”

“I’m sorry,” Isaac sighs, offering an apologetic look. “I just-”

“Don’t apologize,” Stiles cuts him off calmly. “Just stop, okay?” he asks, gesturing with his spoon as he speaks. “The idea that you don’t know how crazy in love with you I am… it just... I don’t know. I mean, it worries me. Maybe even more than your deployment.”

“I fucked up,” Isaac admits, dropping his spoon in the empty container with a sigh. “I should have told you sooner.”

“I know,” says Stiles. “I wish you would have. But it is what it is. I understand why you didn’t tell me right away. I just wish you would’ve, is all. But-”

Isaac nods apologetically. “I know. I’m sorry, I really am. But it’s only six months and it will be over before we know it. I should have told you. I should have, I know. And-”

“Hold that thought. I want to get all of this out, okay?” Stiles asks gently. 

“Of course,” Isaac replies. 

“I’m… I’m scared you don’t know how much you mean to me. And I know we aren’t totally into all that gross couple stuff like Scott and Allison but I want you to know you are the best thing to ever happen to me.” His voice is shaky, but he doesn’t stop. “And I know we don’t talk like this a lot and I know it’s hard for you to put it into words just like it’s hard for me, but you show me how much you love me every day. Like when we moved in together and you let me have the right side of the bed even though I know you wanted it and when you surprise me at work and leave me notes on your receipts and when you let me put my feet in your lap even though I hate it when you do it to me and when you have to stay at the Academy overnight and you leave one of your shirts on my pillow so the bed smells like you. And I know that was like the longest run-on sentence ever but shit, Isaac, I love you. I don’t want to be without you for a second but I’ll wait six months- hell, I’ll wait six years if it means I get to have you by my side. So don’t ever ask me to leave you. Because I won’t.”

Without hesitation, Isaac leans across the counter, pulling Stiles in as their lips collide. Stiles sighs into the kiss, releasing all the tension built up inside him as he slips his tongue into Isaac’s mouth. “Love you,” Isaac says as he pulls back. “I know,” Stiles teases. Isaac bites down on Stiles’ bottom lip playfully, and they both laugh. 

“Were you smoking?” Isaac asks after a second. Stiles shrugs, eyes darting down to his hands. “Dude, come on. You promised me you were done after you quit last year. You know how dangerous it is!”

“Says the one who signed up to get shot at for six months,” Stiles replies without skipping a beat. Isaac shakes his head, reaching into Stiles’ jacket pocket and pulling out the pack of cigarettes. Before Stiles can react, Isaac has emptied the pack into the sink and has the faucet running over them.

“Stiles, there are eight missing!” Isaac all but yells. “Don’t do it again,” he says quietly. 

“Kind of hard to when you drowned-” 

“Jesus, Stiles. Are we really going to do this?” Isaac interrupts. 

Stiles sighs. “No… No. You’re right, it’s dangerous. And I’m sorry. I just needed it tonight.”

Isaac doesn’t say anything. Instead, he presses his lips into a straight line and shuts off the tap. 

“Bed?” Isaac asks once Stiles is finished glaring at him. 

Stiles sighs, face softening. “Please.”

“I’ll take the dog out first. You can go get a head start and brush your teeth. Really well or I’m not kissing you, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles replies with a grin.

Fifteen minutes later, Isaac climbs into bed beside Stiles. “Hey, you okay?” he directs his question towards Stiles back, as he’s on his side facing the wall, with his arms crossed and his back to Isaac. 

Stiles shrugs, but Isaac isn’t buying it. “Come on, talk to me,” Isaac says. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles lies. “Just tired.”

“Stiles,” Isaac warns. 

“What?!” Stiles practically snaps. “I’m tired. Just let me sleep.”

“Cut the shit, Sti. Talk to me,” Isaac sighs. Stiles gives in, rolling over to face him. Isaac can see his eyes are shining with tears. 

“This fucking sucks.”

Isaac laughs dryly, reaching over to brush a stray tear from Stiles’ cheek. “I know. Trust me, I know.”

“What… what kills me is that we always knew this was a possibility. I mean, you told me from the very beginning that these years belong to the government, that you don’t have much of a say. You know what you got yourself into, and I did too. I just… I don’t know, nevermind.” 

“You just what?” Isaac asks, placing a hand on Stiles’ arm reassuringly. 

“I don’t know! I just… I guess I just never thought it was actually going to happen, you know?”

“I know,” Isaac nods. “Me, too. Things were so good, it just seemed like the chances of me actually having to leave were so small since I got placed here at first. And I mean, I’m four years into my mandatory five. After like the third year, I never really thought too much about getting placed anywhere else. Until this.”

“In the beginning, I used to worry about it a lot,” Stiles admits. “When you first explained- I mean really explained- your job to me, I kept psyching myself out about it. You know, stuff like what would happen if you got called into duty and what could happen to you. And how I would handle everything, and if I was on board for that. And what if I couldn’t deal with it? I don’t know, I guess that after I got over it all, I pushed it so far out of my mind that I never really considered it again.”

“I just keep telling myself it’s only six months,” Isaac says. “Just six months and I’ll be back here.”

“We can do six months,” Stiles confirms, sitting up. “I can talk to you while you’re there, right?”

“Yes and no,” Isaac says as he sits up. “We can’t communicate through snail mail, because our location isn’t allowed to be disclosed. But we can Skype, I think. Probably not too often, but once our connections are established and secured, I’m sure we’ll get to talk at least once in a while. They promised us we would have some connections to home.”

“When do you, uh, when do you leave?” Stiles asks, afraid of what Isaac might say. 

“The first week in January?” it comes out more like a question than a statement. More of a I hope this is an acceptable answer than a this is the answer. “I’ll be back here June 23rd. So technically, a little less than six months.”

“Just in time for Comic Con,” Stiles grins. 

“Just in time for Comic Con,” Isaac agrees with a laugh. “And the other three guys with me are Erica, Boyd and Derek, so that makes me feel better. I’m glad they didn’t stick me with three random guys.”

“First of all, Erica is not a guy! Second, they’re all great.”

“Yeah, they are.”

“What is it?” Stiles asks, knowing Isaac is debating whether or not to say something else. 

“I just can’t stop wondering, like, what if this all goes to shit?”

“You mean you and me?”

“No! No, no I mean the mission. What if we fuck up or they realized they picked the wrong gu- people for the job?”

“What are you talking about?!” Stiles demands. “You’re insanely qualified- all of you are. You guys were hand picked by the President of the United States- the leader of the free world! You’re gonna make this mission your bitch.”

 

Isaac laughs. “I hope so.”

“You’re gonna be good! Better than good. You’re burdened with glorious purpose!”

“Are you quoting Loki right now?” Isaac laughs. 

“Do you really have to ask?” Stiles replies. 

“I love you, you know that?” Isaac looks up at Stiles like he is the sun, the moon and the fucking stars. 

“Do you really have to ask?” Stiles repeats with a grin, leaning over to press a kiss to Isaac’s cheek. 

“No, I’m serious. You’re being so, so good about this and about dealing with me. I would never forget why I love you, but if I did, nights like this would remind me why.”

Stiles doesn’t know what to say. He’s been fighting tears all night, and Isaac’s words don’t make it any easier to keep them down. He wants nothing more than to burst into tears, to beg Isaac not to go, to wrap Isaac in his arms and never let him go. 

Instead, he lays his head on Isaac’s chest, draping an arm over his chest and inhaling deeply. “You better not forget,” he says. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Stiles angles his head up to reach Isaac’s lips once more. “Mmm, cigarettes,” Isaac murmurs. 

“Love youuuuu,” Stiles coos, placing his head on Isaac’s chest again and closing his eyes. 

-

A week goes by and it’s the best week they’ve had in a while. Until it’s Tuesday night and Isaac’s not sure what it is that wakes him up, but the clock reads 3:34 AM when his eyes open. Stiles’ warm body is no longer beneath his arm, their legs no longer intertwined at the ankles. Isaac sits up slowly as his eyes adjust to the darkness. “Stiles?” he asks quietly, noticing the sound of deep breathing. His eyes finally adjust and he sees Stiles sitting up in bed, hugging his knees to his chest and breathing heavily. 

“Hey, you okay?” Isaac asks, turning on the bedside lamp and turning to Stiles. 

Stiles says nothing, just shakes his head. 

“No? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Isaac questions nervously, eyes raking over Stiles’ body. He reaches out, but Stiles draws back. 

Stiles shakes his head again. “Don’t,” he says finally, voice watery as he looks down at his bare feet.

“Don’t what?”

“Go! Don’t… don’t go. I… I changed my mind, you should pass it up,” Stiles stutters, working himself up even more with each passing second. 

“Hey, relax,” Isaac sighs, placing a hand on Stiles’ knee. Stiles shakes his head, shoving Isaac’s hand off of him. 

Stiles’ ability to form coherent thoughts has since gone. “I… I can’t. You’re… you…. I….” 

“Look at me,” Isaac says. Stiles continues shaking his head, tears spilling over from his eyes. “Stiles, please,” Isaac practically begs, his voice cracking. 

“You can’t-” Stiles says through his tears. “I can’t just…. you can’t …. Isaac, please.” Stiles’ hands shake as he tries to catch his breath and find his words.

“Hey, come on. Look at me,” Isaac tries again. “Hey. Right at me, come on.” he reaches up and takes Stiles’ face in his hands, feeling Stiles trembling. 

“No… I can’t. You… you can’t,” Stiles repeats, borderline hysterical. 

“Stiles,” Isaac begins. “Don’t panic. You’re safe, I’m safe. Focus on your breathing.” Shaking his head again, he breaks free from Isaac’s gentle grip and hurries out of bed, running into the bathroom. 

Isaac jumps up and follows him, banging on the locked door. “Stiles, open up!” he gets no response, but hears Stiles on the other side of the door. He’s gasping for breath and making quiet crying noises. “Are you okay?” Isaac asks. As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he realizes how dumb they are. No shit, he’s not okay, He’s having a panic attack. “Talk to me, Stiles.”

There’s no response from the other side, only gasps for breath. “Open the door or I’ll break it down,” Isaac says. The door doesn’t open, but Isaac hears the lock click. Opening the door and stepping into the bathroom, Isaac sees Stiles is sitting in the dry tub, fully clothed, clutching his knees to his chest as he gasps for air. 

“Shit,” Isaac mutters, climbing in the tub with Stiles. “I’m going to be fine, okay?” He says. 

“I can’t… you… I won’t… please…” Stiles tries to speak, but again can’t find his words between heavy gasps for breath. 

“Stop talking. Focus on your breathing,” Isaac instructs, sitting back and pulling Stiles into his lap. “You’re having a panic attack. It’s okay. You’re going to be fine, and I’m going to be fine, okay?”

Stiles shakes his head rapidly. “N-No, I won’t. I… I… no, Isaac… I…” 

“Shh, Stiles, stop talking. No talking, okay? Just breathe.” Isaac asks, rubbing small circles onto Stiles’ arms reassuringly. “Match my breathing,” Isaac instructs. Stiles obeys, and his breath begins slowing down. Finally, his breathing is under control, the tears drying on his face the only evidence of his panic. As his heartbeat slows, Isaac holds him tightly in his lap. 

“Listen to me,” Isaac says gently. “I’ve been training for this for years. I know I’m going to be okay, alright? I just need you to believe that too.”

“I’m not worried about you,” Stiles admits, voice shaky. “I’m scared about being here without you. What if something really horrible happens and I’m alone?”

Isaac isn’t sure what to say. “Stiles,” he sighs. “You don’t have to worry about being without me. You have Scott, and your dad, and Allison and Lydia here. Hell, you even have that guy Greenberg down the hall. And don’t forget Miss Lion, the most ferocious guard dog in all the land.”

At the sound of her name, Miss Lion comes scampering into the bathroom, putting two of her paws up on the side of the tub and panting. Stiles cracks a smile, albeit a sad one. “That’s true. How could I forget?”

“If anything, you’re going to have the time of your life. You and Scott are going to play video games until your brains fall out, and you’re going to eat tons of takeout and really sugary Pop Tarts. You can go stay with your Dad if you’re worried, or he can come here.”

Stiles nods, feeling more and more like himself with each reassurance from Isaac. “You’re right. I’m gonna eat lots of Pop Tarts.”

“Listen,” Isaac all but whispers. “You’re strong and capable and smart. And I’m not worried for a second about you. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

“My stomach has been in knots since the summer we started dating,” Isaac confesses. “I knew there was always a chance of something like this happening, and I’ve always been afraid you’d never be able to forgive me.”

“Never able to forgive you? Dude…” 

“I know, I know. It’s ridiculous, I know it is. I’ve just seen it happen with other people and I was afraid it would happen to us.”

“It won’t, okay? We’ll be better than ever. And just imagine how great the welcome home sex is gonna be,” Stiles says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Isaac breaks into a grin. “That’s very true. I’ll be counting down the days until that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would love love love to hear if any of you have thoughts on what's going to happen!


	10. reporting for duty

It’s January 4th, and naturally, Stiles oversleeps. His eyes slowly open and as he comes to his senses, he jolts upright in bed. He frantically reaches for his phone- 5:56. “Shit!” he hisses, jumping out of bed, tripping over his own two feet, and running into the kitchen. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Isaac is still sitting at the counter in his pajamas. “Wh- what are you-” he huffs out between labored breaths. “What are you doing? Don’t you have to report at six?” 

“Oh, shit!” Isaac jumps off the stool. “Was that today?!” 

He tries to keep his composure, he really does. But something about the way Stiles’ jaw drops slightly, his bed head sticking up in every direction, the confusion so clear on his face causes Isaac’s straight face to break. A cheeky grin sneaks onto his face, followed by laughter. 

“They moved my report time,” he explains. “Five more hours of freedom.”

“Not funny,” Stiles mumbles. 

“Oh, come on, that was funny and you know it,” Isaac argues, kissing Stiles’ cheek. “Is your heart done racing?”

“No, Isaac, my heart is not done racing! I half expected the Navy to come break down this door and arrest you for fucking desertion!” Stiles storms past Isaac and pulls a mug from the cabinet.

“You think I would let that happen?” Isaac asks. “Jeez, give me some credit. I would like to think I could find a better hiding spot than the apartment that the Navy pays for.”

“Whatever,” Stiles huffs into the coffee machine. “At least I have six months to figure out how I’m going to get you back. You dug your own grave on this one and there’s only 170 more days until I get to watch you lie in it.”

“Well now I really hope I get shot over there,” Isaac quips. 

“Seriously?!” Stiles demands, slamming his hands onto the counter angrily and turning to glare at Isaac. “You’re really going to say shit like that today?” 

He knows this is just Isaac’s personality, how he’d rather be an asshole than actually deal with what he’s feeling. He knows Isaac doesn’t mean it, knows the only reason he’s so angry is because he’s strung out on nerves and still in denial about Isaac actually leaving. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down and remember this is the asshole he fell in love with. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” Isaac looks like a puppy who’s just been kicked. 

Stiles sighs. It’s long and drawn out and it doesn’t do anything to release any of the pent up nerves and anxiety that are plaguing him. “I have to go to work,” he mutters. “I thought it would be okay, because I was dropping you off earlier and it would give me time to get my mind off things and-” 

Isaac cuts him off with a smirk. “I called Scott last night when I found out my time got bumped. He’s taking your shift if you take his tomorrow. Of course, I said that was fine since the only thing on your agenda tomorrow is eating Pop Tarts in your boxers and pining for me.”

Stiles’ face falls again. “Also not funny,” he grumbles. “But thank you. Seriously.”

“I need to shower,” Isaac states. “You do too.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yep. You go first. I’ll walk the dog,” Isaac deadpans. The grin drops from Stiles’ face almost immediately. 

“Wait. I…”

“I’m just fucking with you. Come on,” Isaac flashes a smile, grabbing Stiles’ hand and tugging him towards the bathroom. 

-

 

Stiles tries not to cry as he drives Isaac across town to the Naval Academy. He almost makes it too- he’s turning into the parking lot when Isaac gets him going. 

“I can’t do this.” 

It comes out as a whisper at first. “I… I can’t do this.” Isaac states, much more clearly this time. “Stiles, I can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t do it.” 

Stiles pulls the jeep into the closest parking spot and kills the engine, fighting back tears. “Hey, come on,” it reminds him of the night Isaac broke the news, except the roles are reversed. “It’s only six months. We can handle six months, remember?”

“But I don’t want to,” Isaac says quietly, hot tears clouding his vision. “I thought… I thought I was home free. I chose Navy because I needed people and I needed to find myself. I was lonely and I needed a way to honor my brother. And I love it, I do love it. More than I ever thought I could. But I just…. I got what I wanted from it. I have people, I honored Cam for nearly eight years. I did my time, I gave my whole life up for eight years. I can’t-”

“Look at me,” Stiles sighs, cupping Isaac’s face with his right hand. “What if this if your way of paying the Navy back for everything they gave you? You said it yourself- you got exactly what you wanted from them. They gave you so much, you know? You have to do this for them, now.”

“Fuck you,” Isaac says, but Stiles knows he doesn’t mean it. “You’re right and I hate it. You’re not supposed to be right! You’re supposed to say Okay, Isaac. You’re right, let’s go. I’m turning the car around and we’re going home and getting in bed and staying there forever. You’re not… you’re not supposed to be right.”

“I’m always right,” Stiles replies. “Two and a half years and you still haven’t figured that one out? I’m starting to think the President was wrong in thinking you’re smart enough for this. Too late now, though, so let’s get moving so you’re not late.”

They get out of the car, meeting at the trunk where Isaac pulls his bag out and sets it down on the ground. He immediately opens his arms, Stiles stepping into them without hesitation.

“I’m gonna miss you, you know that?” Isaac says. 

Stiles squeezes Isaac tighter. “I love you,” he murmurs, burying his face in the collar of Isaac’s olive green, standard-issue tee shirt. “So much, okay? I love you so, so much. And you can do this. We can do it together. Just don’t be a hero. Promise me.”

“I know,” Isaac replies, voice low. “You’re getting me back in one piece. June 13th, alright? We can do it.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“Hmm, really?” Isaac teases, pulling back. “You sure you won’t just miss having someone to walk the dog at the asscrack of dawn?”

“Your words, not mine,” Stiles grins, lacing his fingers with Isaac’s.

“Let’s go, lovebirds!” Erica’s voice comes from across the parking lot by the gate to the Academy. Boyd stands beside her, his arm around her shoulder playfully and a wide grin on his face. 

“Fuck off, Reyes!” Isaac shouts back without breaking eye contact with Stiles. 

“You want to say that a little louder, Lahey?” she challenges. “Pretty sure I just saw Derek pull in, I’m sure he’d love to hear that one!”

Isaac bite back a laugh. “Piss off!”

“Fine, but you have three minutes until report time,” she calls, turning and marching toward the Academy, Boyd on her heels. 

“I’m sorry,” Isaac says. “I do need to get going. As much as I’d love to stay with you-”

“No more talking,” Stiles interrupts, pressing his lips to Isaac’s. “Be safe. And smart. And call when you can, alright?”

“Yes, Mom,” Isaac teases. “But I will, I promise. And don’t forget to give your Dad his pan back from dinner last night. Okay? I love you. Don’t forget,” Isaac kisses Stiles again. “ And don’t watch Avengers without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, soldier boy,” Stiles squeezes Isaac’s hand. “Now didn’t anyone ever tell you not to be late on your first day?”

“You mean my parents?” Isaac asks, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Nope, they were a little busy being dead and/or douchey.”

“Then I’ll tell you,” Stiles replies, fighting the urge to yell at Isaac for poor timing with the shitty family jokes. “Don’t be late on your first day.”

“Yes, sir.”

Isaac turns and walks towards the gate before turning back and running to Stiles, kissing him so hard he stumbles back. Isaac’s hand finds its way to Stiles’ hair as he deepens the kiss. Stiles sighs, a wave of sadness coming over his body as he lets his fingers trail down Isaac’s face before pulling away. 

“Just in case,” Isaac mumbles, running his thumb over Stiles’ kiss-swollen lip. “See you soon?”

“Yes, sir.”

 

-

 

Twelve days pass, each one more difficult than the next. At first, Scott and Allison are all over Stiles, trying to keep him distracted, trying to get his mind off the emptiness of the apartment and the loneliness without Isaac. 

Stiles is really good about it, too. He puts on a brave face, promises he’s doing alright, and waits until they leave to slip downstairs and smoke. He knows it’s bad- really, really bad- and Isaac would pitch a fit if he knew. But maybe that’s why he does it. Every time he takes a drag, he can hear Isaac reprimanding him, just like every time he’s caught Stiles smoking or even thinking about it. You said you quit. This is how you get addicted, you know that! Come on, you’re smarter than this. Put it out.

For Isaac’s sake, Stiles wants to stop. On day nine, he tries. He makes it twelve hours without a cigarette until he lights up in the jeep on his way back from dinner with his dad. The next morning, he drives into Virginia and buys himself two cartons. Anything that reminds him of Isaac is worth the risk. 

But after a while, Scott and Allison stop smothering him, and he spends most of his days working at the coffee shop and fine-tuning his manuscript. It hasn’t gotten any easier since he said goodbye to Isaac, no matter how much Stiles tries to convince himself it has. 

Isaac has been gone thirteen days when Stiles gets a call from the Navy. 

His heart all but stops beating when he sees the number come up on his phone. He’s never been more relieved when he finds out they’re only calling to give him instructions on getting in contact with Isaac. 

It’s four in the morning when Stiles’ phone starts chirping, pulling him out of a restless sleep. He slides to accept the call without looking at the screen. “Hello?” he mumbles, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“It’s a video chat, babe. Take the phone away from your ear and put a light on.”

He would recognize that voice anywhere. “Isaac?!” he practically screams, frantically trying to grab the string dangling from the bedside lamp. He succeeds, the room flooding with light. “Holy shit. Hi.”

Isaac laughs, and Stiles wants to cry. “Hi to you, too.”

“I… I wasn’t expecting… they told me it would be another day or two before you’d be able to call. Holy shit. How are you? Are things okay? You’re being safe, right? You promised me you wouldn’t do anything stupid. Are-”

“I’m good,” Isaac interrupts with a smile. “Things are good. Yes, I’m being safe. And I haven’t done anything stupid yet, I swear.”

“Good,” Stiles says. “I miss you,” he adds, feeling the lump rise in his throat.

“No you don’t,” Isaac says. “You’re just saying that- I’m sure you’re loving bachelor life so much that you’re dreading my return.”

If it were anyone else, Stiles would have plastered on the fake smile he’s grown so accustomed to lately and agreed with a laugh. You got me. Lie. I’m actually doing well. Lie. Yeah, it gets easier. Lie. I just keep myself so busy I don’t have time to miss him. Lie.

But it’s not someone else. It’s Isaac, and he would call Stiles on any bullshit he dared speak. So Stiles tries a joke. “Turns out you were right, I only miss having someone to walk the dog when I don’t want to.”

“Ah, so once again you find out the hard way that I’m always right,” Isaac grins, “Other than that, how’re things at home?” 

“Honestly?” Stiles asks. 

“No, I called from 7,000 miles away so you can lie to me,” Isaac deadpans. Stiles sticks his tongue out playfully. 

“The apartment stopped feeling like home thirteen days ago,” Stiles admits before he can stop himself. He told himself he wasn’t going to throw himself a pity party. Especially not with Isaac. He could only imagine how hard things were on Isaac’s end right now, and the last thing he needed was the added burden and guilt of knowing that Stiles is barely keeping it together. 

Isaac doesn’t say anything at first, his face dropping. He nods, and after a minute he replies, “You know I’ve barely slept the whole time I’ve been here?” 

“Really?” Stiles asks, finding it hard to believe. Isaac was always the one to fall asleep the second his eyes closed- whether it be riding shotgun in the car, during a particularly boring movie, or even just nights when he couldn’t wait any longer for Stiles to come to bed. 

“Really, really.” Isaac sighs, chewing on his bottom lip. “I miss you, you know that?”

“Well I should hope so,” Stiles says, corners of his mouth moving upwards into a small smile. 

“I’m serious!” Isaac replies. “Everyone here is great and all, and we have fun together, but I would give them all up in a heartbeat if it meant you got to be here with me. I don’t think I realized what a big part of me you are until I left. I mean, even the smallest things that happen, I find myself wishing you could be here to see them happen too.”

“Ew, don’t get all mushy on me!” Stiles protests, although Isaac’s words do help to fill the empty feeling in his stomach. At the same time, Stiles wants to cry, because it’s the first time in nearly two weeks anyone has voiced exactly what he’s been feeling. Knowing he’s not the only one feeling the way he is helps the overwhelming loneliness subside, even if only a little bit. “Is thirteen days all it takes to turn you into a big sap? Where’s the asshole I fell in love with?”

Isaac laughs. “He’s busy getting shot at so his boyfriend can afford to keep the HBO subscription.”

“There he is,” Stiles grins. “And it’s not HBO, it’s Showtime. And I think we both know you would be the one to have a bitch fit if we had to wait to watch Shameless online.”

“Oh, shit, that reminds me! Keep them all on the DVR for me, okay? The season’s gonna be over by the time I get back so you better not delete any of them.”

“Better yet, I’ll wait to watch until you get back,” Stiles offers. “Your first night back we’ll lay in bed with beer and chinese food and the dog and twelve glorious episodes of the Gallagher family.”

“No Avengers?!” Isaac asks sadly. 

“Okay, so Avengers first night and Shameless second night. How does that sound?” 

“Like you’re the man of my dreams.”

“Tell me how amazing I am while you’re at it,” Stiles raises an eyebrow. 

“You’re like… hmm.” Isaac takes a moment to figure out his next words. “It’s like all your life, only knowing unfrosted blueberry Pop Tarts. And they’re good, and you like them enough to eat them, but then one day you find out about cookies and cream Pop Tarts. And as soon as you have your first bite you know there’s no going back, and you know nothing could possibly be better. You’re my cookies and cream Pop Tart.”

“Wow. That was beautiful,” Stiles says, pretending to wipe a fake tear from his eye. He pauses for a second before his eyes light up. “Ooh, wanna hear something exciting?!” 

“Of course.”

“So you know how I finished writing my manuscript like months ago?”

“Yep, and you sent it to you Aunt’s friend who’s an author,” Isaac replies. 

“Well she finished reading it a couple days after you left. She told me to go in and read it again now that I haven’t seen it in a little while, and edit it to make sure it’s exactly what I want moving forward. So I’ve been editing it nonstop for the last week or so, and I’m almost finished!” Stiles says proudly. “It’s 361 pages long and as of tonight I’m up to like 320. I think I’ll be finished tomorrow night.”

“Stiles, that’s great! What’s your next step?” 

“I have to hire a real editor to go in and fine tune everything. That should take like a month, and then I can send it along to publishers and see if anyone will take pity on me and publish it.”

“You’ll get published,” Isaac says, matter-of-fact. 

“How do you know? You haven’t even read it!” Stiles teases.

“Because you won’t let me!”

“Not until it’s totally done,” Stiles says. “Besides, if I’m lucky, by the time you get back it might even be all official looking with a cover and everything. That would really enhance your reading experience.” 

“Reading experience,” Isaac muses, shakes his head. “I would be happy reading it if it were written in yellow crayon on the back of old McDonald’s receipts.”

“Hmm. Sentiment is there, and much appreciated, but I think you’re pushing it a little.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Isaac smiles before glancing somewhere Stiles can’t see. “My time’s almost up and Aunt Lisa would kill me if I didn’t call her, but give Miss Lion a big hug from me. Let your dad know I’m alright, too, okay? I’ll call again as soon as I’m able to.”

“Okay,” Stiles says. “Promise you’ll be safe?”

“I promise. It was so good to talk to you.”

“You too. I miss you, Isaac.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles swears he sees Isaac’s eyes shining with tears. “I miss you too. But at least we’re getting closer to the end, right?”

“Right,” Stiles agrees. He knows Isaac is right, but it doesn’t make things easier. 

“Hang in there. I love you.”

“Be safe,” Stiles says. “Love you.”

Stiles’ phone beeps as the call ends, returning to his home screen. He locks his phone, staring at his sad eyes in the reflection of the black screen before placing the phone on the nightstand and turning off the light. 

As he burrows deeper beneath the blankets, he closes his eyes and pictures Isaac coming off the plane at the airport, in his military dress with his stupid grin on his face as his long strides close the distance between the two of them. 

It’s the first time in two weeks he sleeps soundly.


End file.
